


Camelot

by weethreequarter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Politics, Angst, Assassination, Character Death, Coming Out, Domestic Fluff, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, First Kiss, Getting Together, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Parent-Child Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues, So much angst, Surrogacy, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, off-screen multiple child death, school shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weethreequarter/pseuds/weethreequarter
Summary: For one shining moment, there was Camelot.In 2019, Karen Page meets Captain Steve Rogers to conduct an exclusive interview on his late husband, President Tony Stark.In 2007, Steve meets Senator Tony Stark and falls in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started when I was watching Jackie. I found the movie boring as hell, and spent most of the film coming up with this concept instead. It's heavily inspired by JFK, but as it's a modern setting, a lot of the politics come from Obama (especially as the timeline overlaps). That being said, I don't have a lot of knowledge on American politics, and the politics are not the focus of the story. The focus of the story is Steve and Tony. 
> 
> Please heed the tags, especially the ones regarding addiction and character death. This is going to be angsty as hell.

**November 2019, Malibu**

The idea of the Bulletin flying her across the country to Malibu for merely an interview was laughable. Would have been laughable, if it was with anyone other than this. If she wasn’t the only person in the country, no, the _world_ with permission to do the interview everyone wanted to read, they would have laughed the whole idea out of the building. As it was, Ellison merely handed her a plane ticket, told her there would be a hire car waiting at LAX, and wished her a safe flight. It was insane and mind-boggling and completely unbelievable.

It was the scoop of the century.

Pulling the rental Corolla to a stop outside the metal gates, Karen leaned out of the window to press the button on the intercom.

“Yes?” a British voice answered.

“Uh, hi. Um, Karen Page from the New York Bulletin. I have an appointment with Captain Rogers,” she replied.

“One moment please.”

The gates opened silently and swiftly; no sooner had she driven through than they were firmly shut again. Karen drove up the sweeping driveway, glimpses of the Pacific visible between the immaculate shrubbery, before finally parking next to an orange Audi that cost more than she made in two years. Killing the engine, Karen took a moment to gather herself. 

The interview she was about to conduct could make or break her career. She had no idea why Captain Rogers had chosen her - she certainly had not been a candidate, not coming from a small New York paper like the Bulletin - but he had. And now, she was being offered a glimpse behind these gates. The first journalist ever - and possibly the last too - to set foot in these grounds.

Karen exhaled.

Then, gathering her belongings, she stepped out of the car into the California heat, paused to straighten her black shift dress, then marched towards the front door, her heels clicking loudly against the asphalt.

The door opened as she approached.

“Miss Page,” the older gentleman holding the door nodded. It was the same voice from the intercom, she realised.

“Hi,” she replied, unsure whether or not she should or could ask who he was.

“Edwin Jarvis,” he said, eliminating the dilemma. “The butler.”

“I didn’t think people had butlers anymore,” Karen replied automatically before cringing.

“He says butler, but really he’s family,” a familiar voice called.

Karen sucked in a breath as she turned, finding herself face to face with Captain Steven Grant Rogers himself: six foot, blond, specimen of human perfection according to gossip magazines everywhere. And with a surprisingly genuine smile on his face, despite the circumstances.

“Captain Rogers,” Karen began, offering her hand. “Karen Page. I’d like to extend the condolences not only of myself, but of everyone at the Bulletin.”

“Thank you,” Captain Rogers nodded, his eyes tight. His handshake was firm and warm. “Please, come in.”

Karen followed him further into the house, into a wide open room overlooking the Pacific Ocean and the beach below. In the corner of the room, a baby grand sat side by side with a row of guitars.

“Do you play?” she asked, nodding towards the piano.

“No,” Captain Rogers replied, his mouth twisting. 

 _Oh_.

Captain Rogers indicated towards the sofa. Karen sat down, tucking her dress around her knees. She pulled her notepad and pen from her bag, taking the moment to catch her breath and try, once more, to wrap her head around the thought of what she was about to do.

“You look nervous,” Captain Rogers smiled.

“I’m just wondering why you chose me for this,” Karen blurted out. “You could have had anyone. I guess I just can’t figure out why me.”

“Because I’ve read your work,” Captain Rogers replied, and Karen felt her eyebrows shoot upwards into her hairline. “And you care about people.”

“You’ve read my work?” Karen echoed.

“Yes. I like how you tell stories. I know you’ll tell the truth about my husband,” he continued. 

“Like what?” 

“Like the fact that my husband was an alcoholic and a drug addict.”

Karen froze.

“You want me to write that President Stark was a...”

“An alcoholic and a drug addict, yes,” Captain Rogers nodded. “I don’t want you to skim over the bad. But I also want you to write about the good. And there was a lot of good,” he added with a smile. 

“Okay,” Karen exhaled. Her assumption the interview could make or break her career suddenly felt much more palpable. “Captain Rogers, tell me about President Stark.”

To her surprise, Captain Rogers began to chuckle. It lifted years from his face, and Karen remembered he was actually only a few years older than she was.

“It’s been nearly eight years,” he replied, “And I still can’t keep a straight face at that. _President Stark_. That wasn’t my husband. My husband was Tony.”

“How do you remember Tony?”

“You remember, there was this picture,” Captain Rogers began. “When Harley was a toddler. Of Tony lying on the floor of the Oval Office playing with hI’m. He was still in his suit, he’d just stepped away from signing something. But he ignored all that to lie on the floor in his seven hundred dollar suit and play with our son. And in the photo, Tony’s face is so alive, he’s so happy. He’s grinning at Harley like nothing else matters in the world. When I think of Tony, that’s what I think of.”

X

**New York, 2007**

If he smiled any more, his face muscles were going to break.

Steve fought the urge to yell at the room full of politicians and businesspeople to all kindly fuck off, swallowing the words with a gulp of his scotch before managing to paste on a bland smile for his current group of piranhas. They worked in weapons manufacturing, apparently, all hoping to catch a little of the glory that came with Captain Steve Rogers.

 _Glory_.

Because that’s what he wanted.

What he wanted was to be back at base, preparing for the training exercise they were leaving on in a week. Not standing in a ballroom in his Class As, indulging the piranhas. 

“Gentlemen, excuse me,” Steve said, belatedly realising that he’d interrupted one of the piranhas. Oh well. He could always tell people he’d once been interrupted by the Captain Steve Rogers. An honour, no doubt. Steve dropped off his empty glass at the bar before disappearing into the men’s room, hoping for a temporary reprieve.

He splashed a little water on his face, taking care to ensure his cuffs and collar remained pristine, lest he give the piranhas something to feed on. 

“Fuck!”

The muttered curse startled him, coming from the only locked stall which, until then, Steve had assumed was out of order. 

“Everything alright?” Steve called.

There was a pause, then the scrabble of feet and the lock unlatching, before the door swung open and a man in a tuxedo stuck his head out.

“I was not aware there was anyone in here,” Tuxedo Man said.

He was unfairly attractive, Steve decided, in a way that seemed effortless. His bow tie was askew - as if someone had tugged it loose - and his no doubt once perfect hair was rumpled. But somehow he still appeared more natural in the suit than anyone else in the building.

“Is that why you’re hiding in here?” Steve asked, leaning against the counter with folded arms.

“I was,” Tuxedo Man retorted with faux annoyance, “Until _someone_ invaded it.”

“My need was greater than yours.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged, eyes sparkling. “Do you have to give a speech that makes you sound like an asshole?” he demanded, holding up a pile of index cards.

“No, but I’ve spent the last hour and a half with those piranhas kissing my ass.”

Tuxedo Man’s eyes dragged over Steve’s body slowly, before finally returning to his eyes.

“Not sure I can fault them for that.”

“It wasn’t the fun kind of ass kissing,” Steve continued. He let his gaze drop obviously to Tuxedo Man’s mouth. “Unfortunately.”

“Isn’t there a little thing called Don’t Ask Don’t Tell?” Tuxedo Man asked, stepping closer until his chest almost brushed Steve’s shoulder.

“Are you military?”

“Definitely not.”

“Then I’m good.”

Tuxedo Man’s eyes flickered over him again.

“Yes, you are,” he murmured. Then he stuck out his hand. “Tony.”

“Steve,” he said, shaking Tony’s hand. “Rogers.”

“As in…”

“That Steve Rogers, yes.”

“Wow. My lucky night,” Tony smiled.

“So, how dis you get dragged into giving a speech?” Steve asked. “Pretentious or otherwise?”

Tony started at him, as if he couldn’t quite understand what was happening.

“You’re kidding, right?” When Steve shook his head, Tony added, “You know who I am, right?”

Steve shook his head.

“Sorry,” he shrugged. “I’ve been busy. You know, not getting shot.” 

“Wow, this never happens to me. I’m Tony Stark,” he explained, “Senator for New York.”

Steve frowned a little, dredging through his memories of introductions that he’d paid little attention to. 

“Is Howard your father?”

Tony’s face fell. 

“Yeah.”

“I think he was one of the ass-kissing piranhas.”

“Sounds like him,” Tony sighed. “Pretentious asshole with equally pretentious moustache?”

“Yeah.”

“Hence why the speech sounds pretentious; he wrote it.”

“You don’t get to write your own speeches?” Steve frowned. Tony snorted, and Steve wished they could go back to their earlier flirting. Instead he stuck out his hand and said, “Gimme.” When Tony frowned, Steve nodded at the cards until Tony handed them over. “I’m sure we can make you sound less like an asshole,” he grinned. “Pen?”

Tony grinned, pulling a pen from his jacket.

“Do your worst, Rogers.”

X

So close, and yet still so far.

Steve bit his tongue behind his least sincite grin as he nodded politely in response to the piranha who’d managed to catch him on his way out, without listening to a word the man was saying.

Jesus Christ, couldn’t he see that Steve wasn’t interested in anything he had to say? It had been a long night and - apart from meeting Tony in the restroom - an extremely boring one. Steve was ready to leave and relish being able to hear himself think. Just as soon as he could detach this asshole.

“Sorry to interrupt, Senator Brandt, I need to borrow Captain Rogers for a moment.”

Tony.

Steve had never been so relieved to see anyone in his life, not even the evac crew that pulled him out of the damn desert. He managed a marginally less false smile of apology for the piranha - apparently Senator Brandt - and followed Tony over to a secluded corner.

“I liked the speech,” Steve smiled. “Only partly pretentious asshole.”

“I didn’t get the chance to thank you for your service earlier,” Tony said, offering Steve his hand. When Steve shook it, he felt Tony press a piece of paper into his palm.

Steve stepped forward and murmured, “How are you going to thank me?”

Tony grinned.

“Your place or mine?”

“Well, since my place is an army barracks, so your place it is.”

“Meet me there?”

“You got it,” Steve agreed. He watched Tony leave, pausing to greet people on the way out. He bit his lip. Tony really was unfairly attractive. Once Tony was gone, he looked at the card in his hand. One one side was printed _Anthony E Stark, Senator for New York_ and what was, presumably, Tony’s office address and numbers. On the other side was a handwritten address and cell number. Steve managed to evade the piranhas and get to the taxi rank, slipping into the next available cab.

“Two hundred and twelve Fifth Avenue,” he told the driver. “There’s an extra twenty bucks in it if you can get me there in ten minutes.”

X

“Hello?”

“Your doorman is intimidating,” Steve informed Tony.

“How…? You managed to beat me back? I left before you!” Tony retorted. “How is that possible?”

“I had a good incentive,” Steve grinned. “How far away are you?”

“Just turning into the garage now. Go into the lobby, I’ll have the butler bring you up.”

“You have a butler?”

“Yeah. His name’s Jarvis, he’s lovely. See you soon.”

Steve wasn’t sure if Tony was kidding about the butler, but when the elevator opened a minute later to reveal a tall, greying man in an immaculate suit who said, “Captain Rogers, I presume?” he realised that Tony was _not_ kidding. 

“Yes sir,” Steve replied. 

“If you’ll follow me please.”

Steve nodded, stepping into the elevator, grateful to escape the judgemental eyes of the doorman. The elevator ride was tense and awkwardly silent. No doubt Jarvis knew exactly what was happening here. Finally, they reached what turned out to be the penthouse, and the doors opened with a quiet bell. 

“After you, sir,” Jarvis nodded.

Steve nodded and stepped out, a quick glance back at Jarvis directed him to the hallway on the right, which took him into another hallway, where Tony was waiting, leaning against the wall. He grinned when he saw Steve.

“Thank you Jarvis,” he called. 

“Will that be all, Mr Stark?” Jarvis asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I will see you in the morning,” Jarvis replied. “Captain.”

“Goodnight,” Steve called.

They waited, smiling at each other, until they heard the elevator doors close again. 

“You want anything?” Tony asked. “A drink, or…?”

“I want to kiss you,” Steve replied.

“What are you waiting for?” Tony smirked.

“Permission.”

“Permission granted.”

Steve crossed the hallway, winding his hand around Tony’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. He pressed their lips together, thrilled by the slight hitch in Tony’s breath at they met, surprised by the fact that Tony was hesitant. He nudged Tony’s lips open and licked his way into his mouth. Then Tony’s hand fisted in his lapels, and Steve couldn’t stop - nor did he try to - the groan that escaped his lips. 

The kiss became fiery, sharp nips and a fight for dominance and this, Steve loved this. He loved a partner who went with the same intensity as he did, and Tony wasn’t holding back. He wrenched his mouth away, only to latch on to Tony’s neck, pulling the skin between his teeth until it began to purple.

“Shit,” Tony gasped. 

“Remember,” Steve murmured. “You can’t leave any marks on me where they can be seen.”

“Destruction of government property?” Tony teased.

“Something like that,” Steve grinned. He covered Tony’s mouth with his own once more, before gasping, “Bedroom?”

“This way,” Tony tugged him into another, smaller hallway, which led into a small sitting room and then finally into a bedroom. Tony walked backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed, smiling up at Steve as Steve loomed over him. “We are wearing far too much clothes for this,” Tony informed him.

“Yeah? Maybe we should do something about that.”

Tony grinned.

“I like how you think, Cap.”

X

Steve woke to the sounds of commuter traffic and soft sheets, none of which he was used to. Blinking until his vision cleared, he found himself facing one of the many windows in the room. Pushing himself up onto one elbow, he sought out the clock, discovering that it was six thirty. He rolled out of bed, retrieving his boxers and his undershirt from the floor, pulling them on as he sipped into the bathroom. Which was actually even more amazing in daylight, and he definitely wanted to spend time with Tony in that tub at some point.

Once he was done, he negotiated the many, many hallways in the apartment, until he came to the kitchen, where Tony was already cooking breakfast.

“Hey,” Steve called.

“Hi,” Tony smiled. He leaned up to brush his lips against Steve’s. “I figured you probably had to get back to base, so I thought I’d get a start on breakfast. Not that I’m throwing you out!, I just-“

“No, you’re right,” Steve nodded. “I have to go soon.”

“You have time for an omelet first, right?”

“Definitely. It smells amazing,” Steve said. He took a seat at the small table at the end of the kitchen. “Where’d you learn to cook?”

“Jarvis taught me, afraid I was going to starve when I went to college,” Tony grinned. “Do you? Cook?”

“No, I never learned. And now the army cooks for me, so. I mean, my mom tried to teach me, but I didn’t really listen.”

“You? Never?” Tony teased, placing the omelet in front of Steve. Steve stuck out his tongue at him, but secretly he loved that Tony knew him so well already. There was something about this that felt different from any of his previous relationships, and it wasn’t just that Tony was a politician or clearly loaded. He sat down opposite Steve with his own omelet, and hooked his foot around Steve’s ankle.

“I wanna see you again,” Steve said. “I have a training exercise next week, but when I get back I have a couple of days, and if you’re not busy, I’d love to spend them with you.”

“Yeah?” Tony smiled.

“Yeah. I mean, in public we can’t… Because of DADT. But the rest of the time, we can spend naked in your bedroom.”

“I am down for that,” Tony agreed. “Give me the dates, I’ll clear my schedule.”

“But now, I really have to go,” Steve apologised, finishing his omelet.

“Time to share a shower?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Next time,” Tony said.

“Next time,” Steve agreed.

X

“So how was the dog and pony show?” Colonel Phillips asked as they queued up in the Officer’s mess at lunchtime. Steve had dressed quickly after breakfast, saying goodbye to Tony with a quick kiss that morphed into two and then three, before making grateful use of the private exit to avoid being spotted leaving the home of a US senator while in uniform, and making his way back to base. He reported to the CO, then returned to his quarters to change back into his ACU. He spent the morning preparing for the training exercise, before meeting the Colonel for lunch.

“Not bad,” Steve replied, thinking of Tony and his sparkling eyes.

“Really? Thought you hated those things?”

Steve smiled.

“I did. But you know what? I think I could learn to like them.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve considers his future, in the army and with Tony. But before they can make plans, there's something he needs to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the updated tags. I can't believe I forgot to add them before, considering they make up the second half of the story. Please be aware, as they could be triggering, although in fairness there are a lot of triggers in this story, so just be careful. If you're unsure, the link to my tumblr is in the notes at the bottom of the page. Feel free to message me for more details if you're unsure.

**Kandahar, 2008**

Before, Steve rarely bothered about calling home while on deployment. As a single man whose friends were all in the army with him, he had no need to. He had no family, except for a great aunt in Ohio, but she was a born again, new age hippie who disowned him when he joined the army.

But these days, he treasured the phone as much as anyone else, counting down the days and hours until he could talk to Tony again.

Crossing the compound for some modicum of privacy, he punched in the familiar number and pressing the phone to his ear, as if it could physically reduce the distance between Kandahar and New York.

“Hi honey,” he smiled as the line connected.

“Hey you,” Tony’s voice replied. “It’s good to hear you.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, good. You?”

“I have a beard.”

“Ooh, hot.”

“Because I haven’t showered in five days.” 

“Less hot.”

Steve chuckled. He could picture Tony’s expression: nose scrunched up and a small crease between his eyes. God, he missed him. 

“How was the thing we’re not allowed to talk about?” Tony asked.

“We took some fire, but nobody got hurt,” Steve replied. 

“Good. Glad to hear it,” Tony replied. “No, get off. Get off, you- Your dog is sitting on me again, Steven,” he huffed.

“He’s not my dog,” Steve grinned. 

“You picked the hulk.”

“And don’t call him the hulk, you’ll give him a complex.”

There was a pause, then Tony said, “Steve, Steven.”

“Yes dear?”

“I’m going to give the _dog_ a complex?”

“Yes.”

“You are insane, why am I with you?”  Tony sighed. 

“Because you love me.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he murmured. “Can’t wait until you’re home. You and I can take this dumb dog out together. Maybe we can go away for the weekend, just the two of us?”

“Three of us,” Steve corrected.

“Yeah, alright, the dog can come too. We’ll go somewhere quiet, private, just the two, sorry, three of us. No paparazzi, no prying eyes, no military. Just you and me, and this mutt that’s drooling on my Tom Ford shirt.”

“That sounds great,” Steve replied. “The weekend, not the dog drool.”

“Obviously,” Tony said.

“Obviously. Honey, I gotta go,” Steve said, glancing at his watch. “Or we’re gonna get cut off.”

“Yeah, I know. It still sucks.”

“I’m gonna go shower and shave off this beard.”

“Aw, really?”

“Yes,” Steve grinned. “Really. It itches.”

“Fine,” Tony grumbled. “Send me a picture first?”

“I love you,” Steve murmured. 

“Yeah, I love you too. Take care of yourself. I want you back in one piece.”

“I will. Speak to you soon,” Steve promised. 

“Speak to you soon,” Tony echoed.

“Oh, and Bruce isn’t my dog, he’s our dog,” Steve added before hanging up, grinning as he pictured Tony spluttering indignantly in New York.

As he walked away in search of Sharon and her digital camera, the Idea took root in his brain again, and this time, it was almost impossible to shake. 

X

Steve knocked on the door of his CO’s office and waited for the familiar gruff voice to shout, “Enter.” Steve let himself in, closing the door and standing at attention.

“At ease, Rogers,” Colonel Phillips grunted. 

Steve liked Phillips. He was his second CO since joining the army, back when Steve was a Lieutenant and Phillips was a Major. They’d risen up the ranks together. Phillips was tough but fair, and Steve respected the hell out of him. It seemed laughable to him now that he’d once been afraid of Phillips. He was all bluster and, as long as you did your job and didn’t get your men hurt, no bite. 

“What can I do for you, Rogers?” Phillips asked.

“Well sir, my tour’s almost at an end,” Steve explained. “And I’d like to leave the service.”

Phillips frowned at him over his reading glasses.

“Why?” That was another thing Steve liked; Phillips didn’t beat around the bush. “You’re the goddamn poster boy for the US Army. We can’t afford to lose you.”

“I just did what I had to do,” Steve insisted, as he always did. “There are plenty of good men and women serving who deserve the recognition much more than I do. The time’s right, sir. I’ve done my duty. Two tours here, one in Iraq.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there,” Phillips grunted. “I can get a desk job if you want. Never thought it was your style though.”

“It’s not. The truth is, sir, I wouldn’t be leaving unless I had to.”

“Have to? What do you mean you have to?”

“I mean, I have to. If I want to be with my partner,” Steve explained.

Phillips studied him carefully. Steve didn’t flinch from his gaze. Phillips was a good man, a fair one too. Steve knew from experience that he wouldn’t just throw a soldier - any soldier - out for being gay. Phillips made sure that any soldiers he’d discharged under DADT were discharged honourably, which ensured they kept at least some of their benefits. 

“Always knew you and Stark were lying when you said you were just friends,” Phillips said eventually. “How long?”

“From the beginning.”

“You sure about him? Doesn’t seem like the kinda man you wanna throw away a good career for.”

“There’s a lot more to him than meets the eye,” Steve replied. If anyone else had even considered saying that about Tony, he probably would’ve punched them, superior officer or not. But Steve knew that Phillips wasn’t criticising Tony necessarily, but rather showing concern for Steve in his own gruff way. “You ever meet somebody and you just know? That was Tony for me. It’s him. It’s always going to be him.”

“Well, I’m happy for you Rogers. Lot of us aren’t that lucky. I’ll start the paperwork, see if we can get you discharged as close to the end of your tour as possible.”

“Thank you sir,” Steve nodded. 

Phillips hummed.

“I hope it works out for you, Rogers. I really do. Despite what people say, I think Stark’s a good kid.”

“He’s the best,” Steve smiled.

Phillips rolled his eyes.

“Alright. Get your love-sick ass out of my office before you start puking up rainbows and hearts. Dismissed.”

“Sir.”

X

“Are you getting out?” Sharon demanded, throwing herself onto the bench opposite Steve. He froze, fork halfway to his mouth, and raised an eyebrow at his best friend.

“And good morning to you too,” he replied.

“I heard a rumour that you’re getting out,” Sharon frowned, ignoring his attempt at humour. Probably because she’d told him long ago that he wasn’t funny, but she liked him anyway.

“Sharon. You’ve been in the army long enough that you should know never to listen to rumours.”

“So it’s not true,” Sharon smiled.

“Oh no, I’m one foot out the door and the plane out of here,” Steve grinned.

“What?” she yelped. “Why?

“You can’t ask me, and I can’t tell you,” he replied, raising his eyebrow to look at her significantly. Sharon’s mouth fell into an ‘o’. “I’m tired of being in the closet,” he explained. “And worse than that, I’m tired of making my partner stay in the closet.”

“Steve Rogers, you’re a fucking martyr,” she declared.

“Maybe I just have a hero complex?” he grinned.

“No, you’re just an asshole,” Sharon retorted. “They must be pretty special, huh?”

“Oh yeah, walking away from this luxury?” Steve spread his arms, glancing around the tent. “I mean, wow, that’s a tough choice. Tent in the middle of the Afghan desert, getting shot at and blown up? Or Manhattan penthouse with my best guy and our dog? Tough choice.”

“I’ve told before, Steve, you’re not funny.” Sharon stole a piece of toast from his tray. “But if you two ever decide to have kids, and I’m not on tour, I’d be happy to be your baby momma.”

Steve choked on his coffee.

“Yeah, and I’m the asshole,” he coughed.

Sharon grinned.

“You’re on borrowed time, Rogers. I’m going to make your life miserable.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged. “You’ve only got limited time left with me. I’m going to make your life miserable, Carter.”

“Bring it on.”

X

**New York, 2008**

“Hey buddy,” Steve grinned, crouching down to scratch Bruce behind the ears. “Aw, I missed you too,” he said as the dog’s tail threatened to swipe a silver photo frame from the table. He bounced on his paws, lunging forward to lick Steve’s face.

The sound of the elevator rang through the apartment. Steve shushed Bruce, curling his hand into the dog’s collar to keep him there, and waited for Tony.

“Bruce? Buddy, where are you?” Tony’s voice called. 

Steve’s lips twitched. For all the complaining Tony did about the dog, Steve knew he loved him as much as Steve did. Bruce, for his part, clearly felt the same way, his tail thumping against Steve’s legs at the sound of Tony’s voice.

“Bruce?”

And then Tony was there, in the living room doorway.

Steve grinned.

“Hi honey.”

“Steve?” Tony gaped. “What…? You’re here?”

“Surprise.”

He released Bruce’s collar, and the dog - their dog - bounded across the room to greet his other master. 

“Hey boy,” Tony murmured, rubbing Bruce’s ears without looking away from Steve. “You gonna come over here and kiss me, or what?” he smirked. 

In three strides, Steve was in front of him, cupping Tony’s face in his hands and kissing him as though he was drowning and Tony was air. He licked his way into Tony’s mouth, inhaling sharply as he felt Tony’s moan reverberate through his chest. 

“Bedroom, now,” Tony gasped.

“Good plan,” Steve nodded. “Sorry buddy,” he said to Bruce as he closed the door, “You’re staying here.”

X

“It’s official,” Tony declared. “Homecoming sex is _the_ best sex.”

He let his head roll to the side to grin at Steve. The surge of love that filled Steve when he looked at Tony like that, grinning, sweaty and sated in their bed, was almost overwhelming, would have been overwhelming, were it not for the fact that Steve welcomed it, every heady moment. So much so, that he had to lean over and kiss Tony again.

Tony ran his thumb over Steve’s cheekbone.

“When do you have to go back?” he murmured.

Steve smiled.

“I don’t.”

“What?” Tony frowned. 

“I’m done. I’ve been discharged.”

“Why? What happened?”

“You did. I’m tired of hiding, Tony. I wanna be able to go on a date and call it a date. Not just two friends, hanging out. I wanna be able to call you my boyfriend.”

“But you love the army.”

“I love you more,” Steve replied. 

Out of all the reactions Steve might’ve expected, the troubled, pensive expression on Tony’s face was not one of them. He sat up, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“I thought you’d be happy?”

“I am,” Tony replied. “There’s just, um, there’s something I need to tell you. And now I’m scared that you’re going to blame me for making you throw your life away.”

“Not gonna happen,” Steve promised. “Tell me, what is it.” 

Tony’s hands trembled, and Steve could see his eyes turn red and glassy. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Tony’s temple. Tony drew a ragged breath.

“I’m an alcoholic,” he admitted, closing his eyes. “I’ve known for a while now, but I didn’t wanna say anything. Too scared I’d ruin everything.”

“That’s okay, we can get you help,” Steve assured him.

Tony laughed, a bitter sound that turned into a sob.

“You don’t get it, Steve. I can’t. I’m a public figure. Howard wants me to run for president in twenty eleven. He’s already started prepping the campaign. There’s no way I can go into rehab. Besides, this world, that world, there’s alcohol everywhere. And I’m careful, I try so hard. But I can’t not. I tried. After we met, I tried. And, uh, and I refused a drink. One drink. And this guy, this senator was so offended that, that Howard told me I better not do it again. Because of the damage it would do to the campaign. I’m trapped.” 

Steve drew him in for a kiss, gentle and caring despite Tony’s desperation. Telling Tony without words _I’m here_ and _I love you_. 

“You don’t have to do this alone, Tony,” he murmured. “Let me help. We can get through this.”

“How?”

“Together,” Steve smiled. “I promise.”

“You don’t wanna be stuck with me,” Tony whispered.

Steve bit his lip. 

“Underwear,” he said, and Tony frowned. “We need underwear,” he clarified. “I wasn’t planning on doing this now, but I think it’s the right time. But, if so, we need underwear. I’m not doing this naked.”

Dropping another quick kiss on the tip of Tony’s nose, Steve found his boxers under the bed and pulled them on. Then, turning to the drawer in his bedside cabinet, he rummaged through it for the box he’d hidden before he left. 

He beckoned Tony to the middle of the room, biting back his grin lest he give the game away. He kissed Tony one more time, then, in one fluid motion, went down on one knee and flicked open the box behind his back before bringing it round to reveal the ring inside.

“Tony. I love you more than anybody or anything in the world. And I think I always have. Even from that first night, I knew this was different from anything I’d felt before. Loving you is the best thing in my life. Is alway easy? No. Will it always be easy? I doubt it. But I don’t do anything half as well as when I’m doing it with you. So. Tony. Will you do me the honour of becoming your husband?” he asked.

“When did you buy this?” Tony breathed, staring at the ring, sparkling up at him from the velvet box.

“Before I left for the deployment,” Steve grinned. “It’s been sitting in that drawer the whole time. I wanted it to be here, so you’d know, if anything happened. This isn’t a spur of the moment thing, Tony. The past year has been incredible. And, I’m sorry, but I’m greedy, and I want more. If you’ll give it to me.”

Tony pressed his hand to his mouth. It was trembling again, and he was definitely crying now.

“Yes,” he blurted out, removing his hand from his mouth. Steve beamed up at him. “Yes, fuck, yes Steve,” Tony cried.

Steve pulled the ring from the box, sliding it onto Tony’s finger before standing up and kissing him until they were both breathless. 

“I love you,” Tony murmured. “I love you so goddamn much.”

“Good, cause I love you too,” Steve replied. “I love you, and our dog, and this apartment, and I will help you get through this no matter what.”

“Together,” Tony echoed.

“Together,” Steve confirmed, covering Tony’s lips with his own. When they finally broke apart, panting and clutching at each other, Steve smirked. “Want to see if newly engaged sex beats homecoming sex?”

Tony grinned.

X

Tony thrummed with nervous energy next to him. Steve reached across, picking up Tony’s hand in his own and squeezing it tight. Tony drew his gaze away from the car window to give Steve a wan smile.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Steve murmured. “Together, remember?”

“Together,” Tony nodded.

The car pulled to a halt, and Tony visibly steeled himself, pasting on what Steve had come to call his media smile. He wound his fingers through Steve’s own, before opening the car door and stepping out into a sea of camera flashes. Although Steve had attended a number of events with Tony over the course of their relationship, this was the first one he’d attended _with_ Tony, side by side, hand in hand. Before, he’d always arrived on his own, as a friend of Tony Stark

Today, he was the fiancé of Tony Stark.

That sent a thrill of excitement through him. He couldn’t wait to marry Tony. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. One day they would make it. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Tony murmured, tightening his grip on Steve’s hand. He gazed across the room towards the bar.

“I’ve got an idea,” Steve replied.

He tugged Tony across the room, avoiding anyone who looked like they might want to talk to them, reaching the bar and waving to catch the bartender’s attention. 

“Hi,” Steve grinned. “Can we get a vodka and tonic on the rocks? And one tonic and ice. Thanks.”

“What are you doing?” Tony frowned. 

“If anyone asks, I order a tonic and ice, because I’m a veteran who needs to avoid alcohol. And then, when they’re not looking, we swap drinks. I drink the alcohol, you drink the tonic, and you are taking care of my hangover tomorrow,” Steve grinned. 

Tony smiled softly. He stepped forward, kissing Steve’s cheek. 

“I love you,” he murmured.

“You better,” Steve grinned. He took Tony’s hand, raising it to kiss his fingers above his engagement ring. “You’re wearing my ring."

“There you are,” Howard Stark declared, pushing his way past Tony to reach the bar. “Scotch and soda. Make it a double. Where’ve you been?” Howard grunted at Tony.

“Just getting a drink,” Tony replied. 

Howard humphed, downing half of his glass in one gulp. Steve felt Tony tense a little, and run his knuckles up and down against his spine, a reminder that _I’m here, you’re not alone, I love you_. 

“Captain,” Howard nodded.

“Not anymore,” Steve smiled. 

“What?”

“I’m retired,” Steve explained. “I left the army.”

“Why’d you do that?” Howard asked, summoning the bartender for another drink.

“So he can marry me,” Tony replied.

 Howard’s head jerked towards them. Preempting Tony’s nerves, Steve tucked his hand around Tony’s hip. 

“Don’t be absurd,” Howard snorted.

“Is it really so crazy that someone would want to marry me?” Tony asked.

“It’s crazy that no one else has,” Steve replied, before Howard could say anything to tear Tony down further. He nosed the back of Tony’s ear, drinking in the mixture of cologne and hair product and Jarvis’ detergent that he’d missed so much during his tour. “Lucky for me,” he added.

Howard scrutinised them, the death grip on his glass giving away his displeasure.

“How long has this been going on?”

“A year,” Tony replied. “Since we met.”

“Technically, since the night we met,” Steve clarified. “Although,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, intending for only Tony to hear, but not particularly bothered whether or not Howard overheard, “I totally would’ve blown you in the bathroom when we met.”

Tony barely smothered his snort, leaning into Steve as he half hid his face in his chest. 

“Behave,” Tony murmured. “Steve proposed two days ago,” he told Howard, lifting his hand to show off the ring. “I said yes. Obviously.”

Howard sighed. Steve bristled on Tony’s behalf, ready to leap to his defence. Tony was perfectly capable of standing up for himself, but Howard seemed to know all the right buttons to press to cause the most damage. Steve wasn’t going to stand for that. 

“What about Sunset?” Howard grunted.

“i told before, I don’t even like her,” Tony retorted. “She’s a bitch. We have nothing in common. And I love Steve. I’m marrying Steve, dad. Whether you like it or not.”

“Make sure you get a good prenup,” Howard grunted, before disappearing into the crowd.

Steve wrapped one arm around Tony’s waist, pulling his back flush against his chest and kissed below his ear. 

“He can’t just be happy for me,” Tony muttered.

“Who cares what he thinks?” Steve replied. “We’re not doing this for him. Although frankly, if it pisses him off, even better.”

He hated the way Howard usually gravitated towards him, seeing Steve’s medals and fame as more valuable than his own son. 

“Yeah,” Tony sighed.

“Hey,” Steve nudged him. Ready to go introduce me as your fiancé and see how many people we can offend just by existing?”

Tony giggled.

“See, this is why I love you.”

“Just that?” Steve teased.

“Well, I can think of a few others reasons,” Tony replied. Then he slapped Steve’s ass. “Coming?”

“Asshole.”

“Well done, you learned anatomy,” Tony teased, walking into the fray. “Coming?”

“Always.”

X

Steve ran his fingers back and forth over Tony’s bicep, where his arm was hooked over his shoulder, listening to the faint sounds of the city, still audible long after it fell dark and through the best windows money could buy. Tony shifted at his side, as if trying to somehow get impossibly closer. Steve kissed the top of his head.

“Is this our life now?” Tony murmured. “Going to bed together, waking up next each other? Pissing off asshole politicians together?”

Steve smiled into Tony’s surprisingly soft hair.

“I guess so,” he replied.

“You know, there’s a lot of bedrooms in this apartment,” Tony continued.

“I know, I got lost in them, remember?” Steve grinned.

Tony’s head fell to the side so he could gaze into Steve’s face.

“We could do something about filling some of them?” he suggested.

Steve kissed him, fiercely, pouring every emotion he wanted to voice but didn’t know how into the embrace.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Tony gasped when they had to part for air.

“You should,” Steve panted.

And then, because he wanted nothing more and there was no reason not to, he kissed Tony again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the final days before the election, Steve stays home to care for their daughter, and Tony's priorities are tested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... is not my favourite chapter, because I decided on it before I decided on making the whole thing from Steve's POV. I might write a companion with Tony's POV later.

**New York, October 2011**

“It’s okay, honey, it’s okay,” Steve murmured, bouncing his wailing daughter as he walked through the apartment. It felt like he’d walked round Manhattan twice in the last two days without ever leaving the penthouse, every step with Michelle in his arms.

“Papa,” she whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” he sighed, kissing her temple. It still felt too warm under his lips. “You’re gonna be okay,  sweetheart, I promise. Papa’s here.”

Michelle whined in the back of her throat again, her tiny fist tugging on the collar of his t-shirt as she hid her face in his shoulder, and Steve set off on another circuit of the apartment. Bruce raised his head from his bed in the corner of the room, clearly upset at Michelle’s distress, and part of Steve wanted to show all those naysayers on Mumsnet who criticised them for having such a big dog around their baby that they were wrong, and that Bruce loved MJ, and that despite what he’d gone through before they adopted him, he would never hurt her.

The other, bigger part of him just wanted MJ to be well again.

It started with a cough the week before, but considering how much time all three of them were spending on the campaign trail in the run up to the election, it was no surprise to either Steve or Tony when Michelle picked something up. But then the cough got worse, until it became this horrible, hacking thing that seemed to wrack her whole, tiny body, and her nose somehow managed to be both running constantly and completely blocked all at once, meaning that she was awake most of the night in tears because she couldn’t breathe. That was when Tony told him to stay home and look after her.

“She’s more important than this stupid election,” Tony insisted, swaying back and forth with Michelle in his arms, finally enjoying a few moments of sleep and allowing her parents a brief respite. “She needs you more than I do.”

“And the drinking?” Steve asked. They’d worked out a system and by now they were pretty good at minimising the amount of alcohol Tony consumed.

“I’ll tell them that I’m focused on the election, and I need to keep a clear head, and they can buy me one when I win,” Tony replied. He leaned up to kiss Steve. “Don’t worry, I got this.”

“Then I’ve got her,” Steve said, brushing down MJ’s hair. 

Now, Tony was halfway across the country in the final countdown to election day, and Steve was trying valiantly to stay awake for his daughter. Thank goodness for Jarvis, without his help, the penthouse would look like a bomb had dropped, and poor Bruce wouldn’t have been walked for days. The man was a lifesaver.

“Captain, Mr Stark is calling,” Jarvis announced, holding out Steve’s iPad.

“Thanks Jarvis,” Steve managed a weary smile. He took the tablet and stood it up on the coffee table before answering the call. “Hi honey,” he called, sitting down on the sofa and shifting Michelle into his lap.

“Well, you look terrible,” Tony declared.

“Thanks, I love you too,” Steve smiled. “Hey MJ. Look, it’s daddy.”

Michelle twisted her head, removing his face from Steve’s shirt, just enough to see Tony onscreen.

“Hey baby girl,” Tony called. “How are you feeling, honey?”

“She’s still pretty miserable, aren’t you?” Steve replied. “She got a couple of hours of sleep, but she’s still choked up and coughing.”

“And you? When did you last sleep?”

“I have no idea,” Steve shook his head. “Everything is a blur right now, of cough medicine and Vix vaporub. How’s, uh, Illinois?”

“Oklahoma,” Tony corrected. “It’s fine. Not important. That little one there is way more important.”

“How’s your dad?”

“He’s… dad,” Tony shrugged. “We’re getting down to the wire which means he’s through the roof and… Yeah. He’s dad. Pepper’s keeping me sane.”

“We owe her,” Steve replied. “So much.”

“So, so much,” Tony agreed. “I think I might have to buy her a building for all of this. Or maybe a state. You should get some sleep, Steve. I’m worried.”

“Don’t be. We’re fine,” Steve assured him. He glanced at MJ, at her runny nose and red eyes. “We’re as fine as we can be under the circumstances,” he amended. 

“I’m always going to worry, Steve,” Tony pointed out. “You’re my husband, and she’s my daughter. You two the most important things in my life. So I’m going to worry you idiot.”

“Alright,” Steve grinned. 

“I miss you guys,” Tony murmured.

“We miss you too. Where are you tomorrow?”

“Arkansas. Trying to consolidate the southern states that aren’t so sure they want a gay president.”

“Well, good luck.”

“Thanks. I think she’s asleep,” Tony nodded.

Steve glanced down and sure enough, MJ was asleep against his shoulder.

“Okay, I’m gonna put her down and try to get an hour or so myself,” he said. “Talk to you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Tony replied.

Steve carried MJ through the apartment, into the second bedroom of the master suite. Why the master suite needed two bedrooms, he’d never quite figured out. It wasn’t like this was an old apartment, from the Victorian era or whatever, when it was considered scandalous for spouses to sleep in the same bedroom. The building had been remodelled just a few years before Tony bought it.

For whatever reason, there was a second bedroom connected to the master suite’s sitting room, that they’d turned into a nursery when MJ was born. Steve laid her down carefully in the crib, patting her back gently when she stirred until she drifted off again. He pulled the door half-way closed behind him then stumbled into his own bedroom and fell into bed without bothering to remove his clothes. They were dirty and he was exhausted. He could change when he woke up. 

Michelle woke him a few hours later. Steve lifted her out of the crib, shuffling through to the lounge and all but collapsing on the sofa, lying with his daughter on his chest and dozing off until he felt someone lift Michelle. Steve shifted, reaching for her, because he there shouldn’t be anyone taking her away from him.

“Sh, it’s okay honey, it’s me.”

“Tony?” Steve squinted. Sure enough, Tony was standing in front of him, gently rocking MJ in his arms and kissing her forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m tapping in,” Tony replied. “Go get some sleep, I’ve got her.”

“What about the election?”

“I really don’t give a shit,” he replied. “She’s sick, and you’re exhausted, and you two are way more important to me than some stupid election. Howard can suck it.”

Steve managed to smile at that. Tony reached out, running his hand through Steve’s hair. Automatically, Steve leaned into his touch.

“Go to bed,” Tony murmured. 

Steve nodded. Ignoring his aching muscles, he stood up, pausing to kiss Tony.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Go. Sleep. I’ve got this one.”

Steve nodded blearily, trudging through the apartment and falling back into bed to sleep soundly for the first time in five days.

X

The next time Steve woke, he felt refreshed. He was still tired, but he no longer felt like he would keel over if he stood up for too long. Dragging himself out of bed, he stripped out of his clothes, which were about ready to start walking on their own, and climbed into the shower, washing away the last vestiges of sleep and feeling more like himself than he had in days. Once he’d re-dressed in a clean t-shirt and jeans, he padded barefoot through the penthouse, to find everyone.

Jarvis was in the kitchen, making something that smelled amazing, and Pepper sat on one sofa, surrounded by at least two laptops and three tablets, glancing every so often at CNN on the TV. And Tony was walking around with MJ in his arms, and they were the most perfect thing Steve had ever seen. 

“Hey,” he murmured, intercepting Tony to give him a kiss. “What are you doing here?”

“Pulling my weight,” Tony replied. “It’s no big deal.”

Steve glanced at Pepper; she smiled and mouthed, “I’ll tell you later.”

Steve winked.

“How are you feeling, little one?” Steve asked Michelle.

“Sleepy,” she mumbled.

“Yeah? You wanna go back to sleep for a while?” Tony asked. She nodded against his shoulder. “Okay, papa put you down?”

Michelle nodded again, reaching for Steve. 

“Come on, honey,” he said, lifting her onto his hip. “Let’s put you to bed for a while, okay?”

When he returned, Tony was on his phone in the library. Steve took advantage of his absence to sit as near to Pepper as it was possible to reach, due to her wall of tech.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“He was amazing,” Pepper smiled. “After your call yesterday, he asked me to book seats on the next available flight to New York, and to take the first three journalists I found. They got exclusive interviews with him during the flight. It was unbelievable.”

“What did Howard say?”

“He didn’t get a chance to say anything,” Pepper replied. “Tony just told him that he was going home to you two, and if Howard didn’t like it, it was his problem not Tony’s.”

“Wow,” Steve raised his eyebrows. He glanced towards his husband, bursting with pride. “Good for him.” 

“It was amazing,” Pepper repeated. “And from our polls so far, it’s actually helped.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded. 

“Especially in the Republican states. He talked a lot about Michelle and how important she was to him, and how her well-being mattered more to him. It’s shown his family values in a way no one could’ve predicted. The polls so far show that he’s taking lead. Steve, I think he might win this.”

“Wait, it’s election day today, isn’t it? We’ve gotta vote.”

“I already spoke to Jarvis, he’s going to watch MJ for an hour so we can go do the needful,” Tony said, rejoining the conversation. “After you’ve eaten breakfast, because he told me what you’ve been eating since I left, and frankly, it’s alarming. Even to me. And that says a lot.” 

Steve chuckled, drawing Tony close so he could rest his head against Tony’s hip. Tony’s hand immediately wound it’s way into his hair; Steve hummed appreciatively. 

“Whatever you say, honey,” he agreed. 

X

Thank to Jarvis’ breakfast and two mugs of Tony’s black coffee, Steve felt almost human again, when they climbed into the car to head for the polling station. He reached across to take tony’s hand, squeezing it with his own. Tony smiled.

“I love you,” Steve murmured.

“You’re alright,” Tony replied, his mouth twitching. 

“You’re an asshole,” Steve retorted.

Tony’s shoulders shook, then he descended into giggles, leaning across the backseat to bury his face into Steve’s leather jacket. Steve patted his shoulder.

“Get it together, honey. We’re here. You need to look like you know what you’re doing.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Tony said. “I’m making this up as I go.”

“You’re doing pretty good so far,” Steve told him.

Then the door opened, and they were hit by the wave of camera flashes and noise. Tony slipped easily into his media persona as he stepped out of the car, keeping his hand entwined with Steve’s. Steve still disliked the media attention, but he’d come to accept it as part of his life. If it was a choice between being with Tony, or being away from the press, there was no choice in his opinion. 

Once inside, he took his voting card to the nearest booth and crossed the box by Tony’s name. 

As if he would vote for anyone else. 

He joined Tony, watching proudly as Tony put his card into the ballot box, posing for the gathered cameras, then Steve stepped forward and did the same. When he turned, Tony was waiting, his arm open; Steve fitted easily into his side.

“Let’s go see our baby,” Tony whispered.

“Sounds good,” Steve nodded.

They walked outside, arm in arm, and the camera flashes started again. 

“Mr Stark! Mr Stark!” the journalists clamoured for Tony’s attention. Steve noticed Christine Everheart in the crowd, and steered Tony away from her. She was responsible for a particularly scathing report on them when they first came out, insisting that Steve was, among other things, a gold digger and a fame chaser. As if he hadn’t done his best to avoid the spotlight for years. 

“Mr Stark, how’s your daughter?” one journalist cried.

“She’s doing better, thanks,” Tony replied. “We’re going back to her now.”

“Captain Rogers, did you vote for your husband?”

“I suppose I should’ve,” Steve teased.

“You’re not funny,” Tony informed him.

“I think I’m hilarious,” Steve replied. “Of course I voted for Tony. I couldn’t be prouder of him.”

“Mr Stark! Mr Stark!”

But Tony ignored the rest of the questions, sliding back into the car and tugging Steve into his side. 

“You did vote for me, right?”

“I’m not telling you,” Steve smirked.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Asshole.”

X

With Michelle’s illness, the election and the run up would forever be a blur in Steve’s mind. But looking back, there were some moments that would always stick out for him. Moments like the CNN interview, conducted by video call at eleven pm, with Tony holding MJ because she wanted her daddy and refused to be put down. Or Jarvis in the kitchen, keeping them all fed and watered, as the smell of goulash permeated the penthouse. Or Pepper, abandoning her heels and wandering around the room barefoot, with one of Steve’s jumpers over her dress. Or sitting on the sofa with them, Michelle asleep in his arms and finally breathing normally, watching the TV breathlessly as they waited for the final results.

Most of all, he’d remember the moment, just before midnight, when it was announced that Tony was the winner, 297 to 146. He remembered Tony’s shell-shocked expression, and Pepper’s scream. He remembered Tony jumping up and wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him in for a kiss. He remembered Michelle waking up in his arms and complaining, “Shh, sleepy time,” as though she hadn’t kept them awake for days.

Then it was a dish to change, fresh suits and shirts for both Tony and Steve, tucking MJ into bed under Jarvis’ charge and climbing into the car to Battery Park, where Steve watched proudly as Tony gave the speech they’d written together instead of the one Howard had prepared for him, talking about hope and the future.

And maybe it was the stress of the past few days, and the lack of sleep, or maybe it was just the fact that his husband had just made history by becoming the first openly bisexual president in history, but Steve couldn’t help the tears that escaped as he watched Tony, his heart bursting with pride.

X

**Washington DC, January 2012**

“Shh,” Steve murmured, holding onto Michelle’s wool-clad shoulder. His little girl looked picture perfect in her blue wool coat, and black patent boots, but the picture was spoiled somewhat by the look of pure boredom on her face. He crouched down, wrapping his arms around her to keep her still.

“Play,” Michelle said. 

“Later,” Steve promised, kissing her hair, tied back in a perfect bun for the occasion. “Daddy’s making history.”

He glanced up at Tony, who stood with one hand on the bible and the other raised as he face the judge, and a lump raised in his throat. Maybe this wasn’t what Tony - or Steve - had pictured for their future. But, damn, if it didn’t make him proud that they’d done it. 

“I, Anthony Edward Stark, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of the President of the United States and will to the best of my ability preserve, protect and defend the constitution of the United States.”

“Congratulations Mr President.”

With that, a huge cheer rose from the crowd, a crowd that Steve saw multiple pride flags throughout, stretching away from the Capitol building. Steve grinned, hoisting MJ onto his hip as he stood up to receive a handshake from the judge. Then Tony was there, wrapping his arms around them both and kissing Steve. 

“We made it,” he whispered.

“I am so proud you,” Steve replied.

Tony grinned, before turned to wave to the crowd, keeping his other hand on Steve’s back. Steve waved, encouraging Michelle to join in. She did, but remained thoroughly unimpressed by the whole affair. 

“It is my pleasure to present the forty fourth president of the United States, Anthony Stark.”

“Good luck,” Steve nodded.

He stepped back with Michelle, and Tony took a deep breath before moving to the podium. 

“Thank you. Thank you,” Tony began, and the cheers died down. “Fellow citizens, I stand here today, and I’m feeling, uh, so many emotions right now. I don’t think I could categorise them all if I tried. But I’ll give it a go. Never let it be said I stepped down from an honest challenge.

“I’m scared, by the responsibility. And I’m honoured that you think I can handle it. I’m gonna do my best not to let you down. I’m aware, mindful, of the fact that many of you have lives very, very different to mine. You have needs, you’ve made sacrifices, and I have to keep that in mind when I try to do what’s best for you. For ordinary people. For people like my husband, who didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in his mouth like I did. The fact that you think I’m worthy of being your voice is humbling beyond words. And you know me, I’ve always got words. Too many, sometimes, right Steve?”

Steve nodded obligingly from his seat. 

“I want to thank President Ellis for his service to this nation. And mine and Steve’s personal thanks to him and his family for their support during this period of transition. But now, going back to the emotions thing, most of all, what I feel is hope. Hope that my daughter and any other children I might have are going to grow up in a world that doesn’t see difference. Or maybe that’s not quite right. A world that doesn’t see differences as a bad thing. That sees differences as things that make us unique. Special. Not to divide us. A world that can see that, despite our differences, we all have something in common. Whether it’s loving the person we’ve chosen to spend our lives with. Caring for our children. Fighting for what we believe in.

“I know I’m different to the previous forty three men who stood here and took the oath of office. Because I have a husband. Not a wife. But the emotions are the same. So even if you can’t understand me loving a man, you can understand loving someone so much that you can’t imagine your life without them.”

Tony glanced over his shoulder towards Steve. Steve managed a tight smile, as his throat closed up.

“You can understand being so afraid for your sick daughter, that nothing else matters. It doesn’t matter how she was born, or where she came from. Family is family. And now, as part of this job, you are all my family. Whether you like it or not.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, and Steve could see Tony visibly relax and settle in to his speech. Catching his eyes, Steve mouthed, “ _I love you._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Tony campaigns for his second term, they prepare for the arrival of their second child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not fun. I had it in my head, but it did not want to go onto paper. That being said, I am happy with how it finally turned out.

**Washington DC, October 2015**

“Daddy’s home!” Michelle cried, sprinting out of the Blue Bedroom and into Tony’s waiting arms. Steve grinned, twisting over his shoulder to watch his husband hoist their daughter up onto his hip.

“Hi baby girl,” Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to Michelle’s temple. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’m helping papa,” she declared.

“Oh yeah, what’s papa doing?”

“He’s painting the room for the baby,” Michelle informed him, before wriggling to be let down. Once on the floor, she dashed across to Steve’s side, picking up the paintbrush she’d been entrusted with and presenting it proudly. “See, daddy?”

“Wow! Good job, honey. You keep papa right, yeah?”

“Yes,” Michelle nodded. She began brushing it back and forth the wall again, pretending to dip it in the paint, and frowning with an air of concentration that so reminded Steve of Tony.

Pausing in painting, Steve turned to kiss Tony, remaining mindful of the fact that he was holding a paint roller and Tony was in a Hugo Boss suit.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Tony murmured. He glanced around the room. “It’s looking good. Gimme five minutes to change and I’ll help.”

Steve nodded, stealing one more kiss before Tony left. He returned moments later, suit gone, replaced by jeans and a worn t-shirt; the way Steve liked him best.

(He loved Tony in a good suit, and he particularly loved Tony’s ass in a good suit, but he was most Tony like this. Even in the most famous house in the country)

“Alright small one, tell me what needs to be done,” Tony declared.

“You can paint that wall,” Michelle cried, pointing east.

“Alright,” Tony replied, grabbing a roller and smacking a kiss against her forehead.

“Papa, is the baby coming today?” Michelle asked, as she had every day since they told her she was going to be a big sister months ago.

“Not today,” Steve smiled.

While at thirty seven weeks, Sharon’s pregnancy was technically considered full term, they weren’t expecting the new arrival for a few weeks. Even so, the anticipation thrummed in Steve’s veins at the thought of becoming a father for the second time. The decision to have a second child was one of the easiest ones he’d ever had to make, and the fact that it coincided with Sharon’s return from Afghanistan made it even easier. It was the perfect time to take her up on her offer of surrogacy from years before. The due date just days after the election was a little less perfect, but they were juggling impending parenthood and the re-election campaign with aplomb. 

And as such, it probably would’ve been wise to get someone else to repaint the Blue Bedroom, but Steve wasn’t the only one who wanted to paint their baby’s room himself.

“Hey MJ, am I doing it right?” Tony called.

Michelle bounced across the room, her mouth twisting as she considered Tony’s work.

“Not bad,” she informed him eventually.

“Gee, thanks,” Tony grinned.

Steve coughed, barely covering the words, “Your daughter.”

Tony. Copied him, replying, “All you, Steven.”

They grinned across the room at each other. 

“Will the baby come tomorrow, papa?” Michelle pressed.

“No,” Steve shook his head.

“The day after tomorrow?”

“Probably not.”

“But they might?”

“No, honey.”

Michelle gave an exaggerated sigh, her shoulders dropping dramatically.

“This baby is taking a long time,” she declared.

“Babies do,” Tony said. 

“They shouldn’t.”

“That’s life, honey,” Steve said, running his hand over her hair.

“What about the day after the day after tomorrow?”

X

There were a lot of things about being First Gentleman of the united States that Steve didn’t like, a number that he barely tolerated, and some that he downright hated. But visiting school kids was not one of them. 

“Hey, class, look who’s come to visit us,” the teacher, Mrs van Dyne, called.

“You’re married to the president!” one boy shouted.

“I am,” Steve grinned. “He says hi, and he’s sorry he couldn’t come and visit you guys with me.”

“What’s he doing?”

“That’s super secret, I’m not allowed to tell anybody,” Steve replied.

“I saw you on TV!”

“You did? Wait, did I see you on TV?”

“No!”

“You sure?”

Steve eased himself into a tiny chair, folding up his limbs and crossing his legs under the table.

“So. What are we doing today?” he asked the kids at the table. “And what’s everybody’s names?”

“I’m Riri!” 

“I’m Kate!”

“And I’m Cassie!”

“I’m Eli.”

“Alright. I’m Steve. So what are we doing?”

“Maths,” Eli replied.

“It sucks,” Kate added.

“I like maths,” Riri argued. 

“Me too,” Cassie agreed.

“You know, the President likes maths, and so does out daughter, Michelle. She’s about your age,” Steve explained. “But I’m not very good at maths. I’m better at drawing.”

“Can we see?” Kate asked.

“Sure,” Steve agreed. 

He accepted a piece of paper from Mrs van Dyne and took a pencil from the pot in the centre of the table and drew a quick cartoon-like sketch of the four kids.

“That’s us!” Eli cried.

“Well done,” Steve grinned.

“Awesome,” Cassie declared.

Surrounded by the kids, it was easy for Steve to ignore the constant clicking on the cameras in the background, all desperate to capture _the_ picture of the First Gentleman. He joined in when Mrs van Dyne led the class in singing the alphabet, and beamed with Riri on one side and Cassie on the other when the whole class posed with him for an official photograph. 

“Alright class, what do we say to Captain Rogers for coming to visit us?” Mrs van Dyne asked.

“Thank you!” the children chorused, and Steve felt his heart melt. 

“Thank you for having me,” he replied. “I had a lot of fun with you guys.”

“Will you come back?” Eli asked.

“Maybe. Thanks for the invite, Eli.”

“Bye bye,” Tommy called.

“Looks like I’m getting thrown out,” Steve told Mrs van Dyne. He gave a few hi-fives and fist bumps on his way out, and wished all his duties as First Gentleman could be like that.

When he left the classroom, Steve spotted Clint on his cell phone, expression serious. He ended the call as Steve approached, falling into step with him.

Back when they met four years ago, Steve was dubious upon meeting the Secret Service agent. Turning up in a bright purple shirt, half shaven, and clutching a cup of coffee like a lifeline wasn’t exactly the best friend impression Clint could’ve given Steve. But now he considered Clint - and Natasha and Sam, who led Tony and Michelle’s security teams respectively - a friend. 

“What time am I meeting the Governor for lunch?” Steve asked.

“There’s been a change of plans,” Clint replied. “I’ll tell you in the car,” he added upon Steve’s questioning look. 

As soon as the town-car door closed behind them, Clint was ready for Steve’s probing expression.

“The President and Sergeant Carter are at Bethesda Hospital after an assassination attempt,” Clint revealed. Quick, no beating around the bush. Like removing a band aid. It was one of the things Steve liked about him. 

“Injuries,” Steve said, slipping back into the well-worn persona of Captain Rogers, veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan. He couldn’t afford to be Tony’s husband or Sharon’s friend, not in these circumstances. 

“Minor, possible bruised ribs for the President,” Clint reported. “Happy took a bullet to the shoulder.”

“Jesus,” Steve exhaled. “What happened?”

“They were driving back to the White House. Happy noticed a car speeding towards them, so he was paying attention when the shooter popped out of the window. He spun the car, protecting the President and Sergeant Carter from the shooter, and took the bullet in the process. He’s in surgery right now, but they’re hopeful. The President is being checked out right now, and Sergeant Carter has been taken to Mother and Infant so they can check the baby.”

“Alright,” Steve sighed. “Thank you. Are we headed there now?”

“Yes,” Clint nodded. “I called Sam, had him up security at Michelle’s school.”

“Thank you.”

At least if MJ was safe, Steve could focus on Tony and Sharon and the baby. He knew, if necessary, Sam could organise for Michelle to leave school early and return to the White House and her nanny. 

When they arrived at Bethesda, Steve followed Clint into the Emergency Room, a desperate need to see his husband with his own eyes and confirm that Tony really was alive and in one piece. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple of people in the waiting room do double takes when they spotted him, no doubt thanks to _People’_ s obsession with his wardrobe. They were buzzed through, and then Natasha was there waiting for them. 

“The doctor just left,” she reported, skipping any pleasantries, which Steve loved her for. “He has bruised ribs and one cut on his forehead needs to be glued. But otherwise he’s fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve replied.

Natasha nodded, pulling back the curtain of a cubicle and stepping aside. Steve ducked inside and then, finally, Tony was there.

“Tony.”

Crossing the room in two quick strides, Steve wrapped his arms around him, mindful of his bruised ribs.

“Steve. Honey.” Tony’s hands came up to grip his shirt. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He leaned down, giving Tony a bruising kiss, as hard as he dared. When he pulled back, he inspected the cut on Tony’s forehead, his fingers getting a little too close, causing Tony to wince. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m just waiting on a nurse to come a glue me back together. Any word on Sharon?”

“Clint said that they took her to Mother and Infant to check on the baby. Nothing since.”

Tony nodded. He stuck his head out of the curtain.

“Hey, Romanoff? Any chance we can hurry this up-“ he waved to the cut on his forehead, “- so we can go see Sharon?”

“On it,” Natasha replied.

Tony folded himself into Steve’s arms; Steve burrowed his face into his hair, breathing in. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” he murmured. 

“Scared the shit out of me too,” Tony replied. “I’m okay.”

“Are you?” Steve asked, feeling him tremble in his arms. 

“I’ll live.”

They pulled apart as a nurse joined them. Steve kept his hand tangled with Tony’s as she clean the cut, applying glue and a couple of butterfly stitches as a precaution. A pharmacist turned up with Tony’s prescription, then they were escorted between buildings by Natasha and Clint, riding the elevator to the sixth floor in nervous anticipation. Only Tony’s hand in his anchored Steve, keeping him sane.

“Sharon. Are you okay?” Steve asked when they finally found her room.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I mean, I’m in labour, but I’m fine.”

“What?” Tony and Steve yelped.

“You’re in labour?” Steve echoed. 

“Yeah. Relax, I am very early labour,” Sharon replied. 

“Okay, okay. Okay,” Tony said. “Uh, labour. Yeah. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

“Oh my God, calm down!” Sharon laughed. “Look at the two of you. You’ve done this before.”

“Well. Yeah. But…” Steve shrugged.

“Exactly,” Tony nodded.

Sharon rolled her eyes.

“Men.”

X

Time was a funny thing. 

Somehow it felt like days for Sharon to be in labour proper, but at the same time it felt like the blink of an eye. Steve ditched his leather jacket in the corner of the room, and as time went on, Tony lost his jacket, loosening his tie and rolling up his shirt sleeves as they searched for something, anything to occupy their minds and calm their nerves at the fact that their baby was on their way. 

Natasha sent one of the baby agents to the canteen periodically, with a coffee for Tony and tea for Steve.

“MJ’s going to kill me,” Steve murmured as they sat on the sofa, staying out of the way while the doctor checked on Sharon. “I told her the baby wasn’t coming today.”

“They might not,” Tony reasoned. “It might be tomorrow.”

“I said it wouldn’t be tomorrow either.”

Tony chuckled into his styrofoam cup.

“Hopefully the excitement of being a big sister will distract her.”

“Tony. Have you met our daughter? When have you known her to forget anything ever?”

“Good point,” Tony nodded. He shifted, trying to get comfortable. Steve noticed him wince out of the corner of his eye.

“You okay?” he murmured. 

“Ribs,” Tony replied.”Don’t worry, they’ve got me on the good stuff. Doc gave me a prescription for Vicodin. I’ll be fighting fit in no time.”

“Good,” Steve replied, tapping their cups together in a silent toast.

“Good news, gentlemen,” Sharon’s doctor announced. “We’re about ready to start pushing.”

“ _We_ ,” Sharon muttered. “Yeah, _we’re_ going to push.”

“So, we’re going to move down to a delivery room if you’d like to join us.”

Steve turned to Tony.

“Ready?”

He grinned.

“As I’ll ever be.”

X

“Hey, Happy. You up for visitors? I’ve got somebody here who really wants to meet you,” Tony said, sticking his head into Happy’s room.

“Yeah, come on in,” Steve heard his reply.

Tony turned to grin at Steve, before opening the door and stepping inside. Steve followed him inside, moving carefully lest he upset the tiny bundle in his arms.

“Hi Happy,” he smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” Happy replied. “Is that…?”

Steve nodded.

“According to Sharon getting shot is preferable to childbirth because it’s over quicker,” Tony added. “So, think positive.”

Steve moved across the room, perching on the edge of Happy’s bed and pulled down the blanket so Happy could see the baby’s face more clearly. He felt Tony come up behind him, his hand settling on Steve’s shoulder.

“Happy, we’d like you to meet Harold Edward Grant Stark-Rogers,” Steve grinned.

“What?” Happy gaped between the three of them.

“We’re calling him Harley though,” Tony added. “No offence, but no kid deserves to be called Harold.”

“No, I’m with you there,” Happy agreed, his voice choked.

“Thank you,” Steve said. “Without you, this little guy might not be here. This idiot might not be here either, and unfortunately, I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Asshole,” Tony grumbled, prodding Steve’s bicep.

“Wow,” Happy exhaled. “Wow. Can’t believe you named your baby after me.”

“Well, you’ve earned it,” Tony smiled.

“Hey, Sharon? Is she okay?”

“Tired, grumpy, and wants a cheeseburger,” Tony reported.

“And a gallon of coffee,” Steve added. 

“Yes. Which reminds me, we should get on that. She did deliver our son after all.”

“That she did. And this little guy’s gonna be hungry soon too,” Steve agreed. “Take care, Happy. We need you at full strength so you can deal with Tony.”

“Hey!”

“You got it, Cap. Congratulations guys.”

“Thank you,” Steve smiled.

When they returned, Sharon was asleep. 

“You wanna take him for a bit?” Steve murmured as they settled on the couch.

“Sure. Hand the squirt over,” Tony replied. 

With only mildly awkward manoeuvring, Steve passed Harley over, as they re-learned dow to juggle a newborn after six years.

“Muscle memory,” Tony grinned.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Although, we’re in a different house now. Which means we have a different layout to learn how to walk while still asleep for midnight feeds.”

“Yeah. Why did we decide to do the during the re-election campaign?” Tony frowned.

“Because we’re idiots?”

“That’s sounds right. Hey buddy,” Tony cooed, bouncing Harley as he twitched in his sleep. “Hey little one. God, I forgot how tiny they were.”

“I know.”

“I thought we might lose him today,” Tony admitted.

Steve remembered the cold, clawing fear digging itself into his stomach as Clint told him the details. He remembered the vice on his throat, restricting his breathing, until he finally saw Tony with his own two eyes.

“We didn’t. He’s here, he’s perfect-“

“Of course he’s perfect, he’s a Stark.”

“Stark-Rogers,” Steve corrected, elbowing Tony.

“Ow, ow! Ribs! Not when I’m holding the baby!”

“As I was saying,” Steve continued. “He’s here, he’s perfect, and that’s all that matters.”

Tony nodded. As he leaned down and brushed his lips across Harley’s forehead, Steve wondered if it was possible for a heart to burst with love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cameos from the Young Avengers. Steve's interactions with the kids are inspired by a video of Obama visiting an elementary school.
> 
> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's second term begins, but Howard's indiscretions begin to come to light. Meanwhile, the family has to say goodbye to a beloved pet.

**Washington DC, January 2016**

Steve tucked Harley’s hat more securely around his head, protecting the three month old from the biting cold. Meteorologists were predicting a major blizzard would hit within the next few days, but thousands of people still turned out to watch Tony be sworn in for the second time. He bit back a smile as Michelle stepped up to hold the bible for Tony. Tony winked at her, and Michelle beamed proudly.

When Tony finished, Michelle skipped back to Steve’s side. Steve hugged her with one arm, rubbing her shoulder to keep her warm.

“Alright, don’t worry,” Tony said, stepping up to the lecture. “I’ll try to keep this short so we can all get somewhere warm.” 

X

Steve tilted his chin upwards as he finished tying his bow tie.

“Tony, you nearly ready?” he called. 

“Yeah, five minutes,” Tony’s voice echoed from the bathroom.

Steve frowned when he head the rattle of a pill bottle. Leaving the bedroom, he appeared in the doorway just in time to see Tony dry swallow a couple of pills. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“What?” Tony spun around. “Yeah, I’m fine. Ribs.”

“Still?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. I spoke to Doctor Cho,” Tony assured him. “I didn’t get shot, and I didn’t give birth, so all in all, I had the best day out of anyone.” 

“Well. Someone did try to kill you,” Steve pointed out. 

“I’m fine,” Tony insisted, leaning forward to kiss him. 

“Okay. I trust you,” he nodded. “I’m gonna go say goodnight to the kids.”

“I’m right behind you.” 

Steve ducked into Harley’s nursery, smiling down at his sleeping baby. He brushed back Harley’s downey hair, running a finger over his cheek. 

“Sweet dreams little one,” he whispered. 

But when he stuck his head into Michelle’s room across the hall, to Steve’s surprise, his daughter was nowhere to be seen. But since Wanda was also in neither child’s room, he didn’t worry too much. Jogging up the stairs, he headed towards the sun room. Sure enough, he found Wanda sitting on the sofa, keeping a careful eye on Michelle, crouched beside Bruce.

“Hi honey, what are you up to?” he asked. 

“Bruce is still sick,” Michelle replied. 

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, biting back a groan as he sat down on the floor beside her. He was thirty four, goddammit, he wasn’t supposed to be aching just from sitting down. “He’s an old dog, and he had a difficult life before we adopted him.”

“Is he hurting?”

“I don’t think so, honey.”

“I hope not.”

Steve smiled. He cupped the back of her head and pulled her in, kissing the top of her head. 

“Time for bed, honey. Come on, daddy’s waiting to say goodnight. Okay?”

“Okay. Good night papa.”

Michelle stood up, wrapping her arms around Steve’s neck. He smiled into the hug.

“Good night baby girl.”

“Good night Captain,” Wanda nodded.

“Night Wanda.”

Once he was alone with the dogs, Steve turned back to Bruce, running his hand over his flank. Across the room, Thor was sprawled out and snoring. But out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Loki watching Steve and Bruce carefully. They never planned to adopt two dogs, but Thor and Loki were inseparable. Loki disliked everyone except Tony, and had mastered a look of disdain, the like of which he’d never seen before on a dog. That being said, there was a definite air of concern around the lurcher.

“You do care, don’t you?” Steve murmured. Loki dropped his head onto his paws, glaring up at Steve. “You’ll tell me when it’s time, right buddy?” Steve asked Bruce. “Take care of him,” he told Loki, and climbed to his feet, this time giving in and groaning. 

“I’m not old,” he muttered.

X

Losing Bruce felt like the end of an era.

He was the first part of their family, the family he and Tony had carved out for themselves when there was no one else. The loveable, gentle giant, who allowed baby Michelle to clamber over him and tug on his fur and ears without a twitch of complaint, despite the pain his previous owners put him through. Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit that he shed more than one tear when he took him to the vet, but it was kinder in the long run to put him out of his misery. Arthritis had killed his joints, making it impossible for him to move without agonising pain. 

Tony tried to pretend that he wasn’t upset, but Steve knew him better than that. While they changed for bed that night, Tony muttered, “I’m gonna miss the hulk.”

“Don’t call him the hulk, you’ll give him a complex,” Steve replied automatically.

Tony blinked at him, then started to laugh. As he laughed, tears began to trickle down his cheek, and Steve pulled him into his arms. 

Life went on. 

Learning to juggle two children was a skill Steve relished. Despite some uncertainty when they finally took Harley home from the hospital, Michelle quickly came round and threw herself into the role of the bossy older sister with aplomb. She appointed herself Harley’s voice, to Steve’s amusement, as Harley conveniently wanted whatever Michelle did. 

“Harley wants a biscuit,” Michelle announced as the family enjoyed a rare evening together in the sun room. Despite having a living room downstairs next to their bedroom, both Steve and Tony preferred the sun room. Even with their chosen decor, the living room still felt too stuffy for them to truly relax. Here, Tony could lounge across the sofa and Steve could tussle with the dogs without feeling like they were supposed to be on their best behaviour. 

Steve glanced up as Thor gently chomped down in his arm to see Jarvis enter the room, Obadiah close on his heels.

“Mr Stane, sir,” Jarvis announced. Only thanks to their years together could Steve hear the tension in Jarvis’ tone. Neither he nor Steve liked Stane.

“Tony,” Stane boomed. “Captain. Good to see you.”

Steve nodded. He eased Thor’s jaw off of his arm, silently telling him with a pat that the game was over. Thor instantly trotted to Loki’s side, collapsing over the other dig, mindless of the way Loki snapped at him. Steve shifted to Michelle’s side, conveniently blocking her from Stane’s view. He didn’t like the way he looked at her. 

“Obie,” Tony greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“There’s something we need to discuss.”

“Alright,” Tony sighed. He rolled off of the couch. “Let’s go downstairs.”

“I don’t like that man,” Steve said to Jarvis, once Tony and Stane were gone.

“The feeling is entirely mutual,” Jarvis agreed. 

Steve jumped as a wet nose was shoved into his ear.

“Thor!”

When Tony returned, his face was drawn and pensive. He put on a good show for MJ, reading her a bedtime story with all of his usual enthusiasm - Steve just didn’t do the voice right, apparently - and told her, “Go to sleep or I’ll sell all your toys.” But Steve noticed the way his face fell whenever MJ was distracted.

“What is it?” Steve asked, closing the bedroom door behind them.

Tony exhaled.

“There are… rumours,” he explained. “And maybe more than rumours. That Howard received donations from questionable sources for the campaign.”

“Jesus,” Steve muttered. He knew Howard was ambitious, but was he really stupid enough, in this day and age, to accept money from criminals? He should know that nothing stayed secret forever. These days, someone was always watching or listening somehow. 

“Yeah,” Tony sighed. “You’ve heard of Ivan Vanko?”

“The Russian mafia boss?”

“That’s the one. The FBI have pictures of Howard meeting with him. They look very friendly.”

“Shit. What are you going to do?”

“I fired him. Called him after Obie left. He was not happy. Tried to deny it, but…”

“But it’s better to protect yourself,” Steve said. “If they link Vanko to you-“

“I know. I know. I can’t believe he’d do something like this.” Tony paused. “Actually, yes I can. Howard’s the right kind of arrogant to believe that he’d never get caught. Jesus. This was not how I was expecting tonight to go.”

“How were you expecting tonight to go?”

“Spending time with my babies. Then spending time with my husband.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve grinned. “And how were you planning on spending that time together?”

“I have a few ideas,” Tony smirked. 

He tugged Steve’s belt, manoeuvring him until the back of his knees hit them bed. When Tony pushed on his shoulder, Steve fell backwards easily. He was stronger than Tony and could resist easily if he wanted to - but he definitely didn’t want to. Tony pulled his shirt off, nodding to Steve to do the same, then finally, finally climbed onto the bed, straddling Steve’s hips and pining down his shoulders as he kissed him. He felt Tony’s hand slide down his left arm, then something soft wrapped around his wrist. 

Steve groaned.

They broke apart, panting, and Steve recognised the tie around his wrist as Tony’s.

“Green?” Tony raised his eyebrow.

“Definitely,” Steve gasped.

X

Steve lifted Harley more securely onto his lap as he waited for the press conference to begin. Across the room, Michelle was bossing Wanda about while Thor gazed at her adoringly. Harley gurgled, twisting to check that it was still Steve holding him. 

“Hey baby,” Steve smiled.

Harley reached up and smacked his hand against Steve’s mouth, in what he suspected was supposed to be a reassuring gesture. Steve chuckled, ducking Harley’s hand so he could press a kiss to the top of his head. His attention returned to the TV as Tony appeared, illuminated in a burst of camera flashes.

“Let’s see if daddy can clean up grandpa Howard’s mess,” Steve murmured.

“Hi everyone,” Tony greeted. “Hey, would it be alright if everyone just sat down? That way you can see me and I can see you and it feels less formal. I’m sure you all have a lot of questions. God knows I do. But first of all, I’m going to say a few words.

“As I’m sure most of you know by now, there are rumours of connections between my father and Russian, uh, businessmen, such as Ivan Vanko. Personally, I’ve never met Ivan Vanko. I have never, knowingly, met any of his associates.”

“Have you unknowingly met any of his associates?” a reporter called.

“First, I’m not finished,” Tony replied, rubbing his eye with his forefinger, “And second, by the very definition, I wouldn’t know if I had unknowingly met then. Yeah? Anyway. As I was saying. 

“I take the allegations against my father very seriously. I went into office believing that I won fairly. And I have tried to run this office fairly, or as fairly as I can. Sometimes we fail. And that sucks. But it’s worse, if we don’t learn from those failures. Didn’t someone say, insanity is doing the same thing a thousand times and expecting different results? Yeah? You get what I’m saying, right? Whether intentionally or not, there were mistakes made. And that is why Howard Stark, my father, will no longer play a part in the running of this office. The FBI is conducting their investigation, and I have the utmost faith in both them and the US Attorney’s office. I hope these allegations will turn out to be false, and if they’re not, all I can do is apologise profusely for the mistakes my father made. Thank you.”

“Papa,” Michelle interrupted. “Draw me a race car. Wanda can’t do it right,” she added, throwing a dirty look at her nanny.

“Hey. Miss. That’s not very nice,” Steve scolded.

“Sorry Wanda,” Michelle muttered.

“Thank you Michelle,” Wanda replied. She caught Steve’s eye, barely containing her amusement. 

“Daddy’s on TV,” Steve told Michelle, pointing to the screen. Michelle didn’t even look round.

“Daddy’s always on TV,” she rolled her eyes. “Race car please.”

Steve sighed. He handed Harley over to Wanda, then took the paper and pen MJ was prodding him with and began to sketch the outline of a race car for her, Michelle peering down on her tiptoes.

“We gotta work on your manners, young lady,” he informed her.

When Tony joined them, Steve was sprawled out across the floor playing with Harley, while Michelle had disappeared into the music room with Wanda for her piano lesson. No doubt, she would soon appear demanding they both come and listen to her latest piece, but for now, they had a moment of peace.

“Hey,” Steve greeted.

“Hey,” Tony echoed. He bent down to kiss Steve, before pulling off his jacket and tossing it aside. He tugged his tie loose as he sat down with a groan, before rolling up his shirt sleeves. “That could’ve gone worse.”

“That shouldn’t have happened at all,” Steve pointed out.

“Yeah, I know. But it’s Howard. He’s… Howard.”

Harley let out a piercing squeal and wriggled towards Tony.

“Sorry squirt, did I not say hi to you?” Tony asked. He smacked his lips against Harley’s cheek, eliciting a stream of giggles. “Hi baby. I love you so much. Don’t worry, daddy’s never going to sell you out to Russian mobsters like grandpa Howard.”

He lay down, then lifted Harley onto his stomach, hands on his hips to hold him in place. Steve smiled. He reached over to grab his phone from the couch to snap a picture.

“ _Oof_ ,” Tony exclaimed, as Harley slapped his hand against the middle of Tony’s chest. “Easy kid. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“I think that’s his new party trick,” Steve explained. “I think he’s trying to pat us like the dogs. He hit me in the mouth earlier.”

“He did, huh? Well, good job buddy. Thank you very much, I love you too.”

He pulled Harley down, kissing the top of his head, and tucked the baby into the crook of his neck. Steve couldn’t resist. He lay down beside Tony, leaning into his side. Tony hummed.

“This is nice.”

“MJ’s gonna want us to go listen to her play soon,” Steve pointed out.

Tony hummed again, turning towards Steve, his eyes drifting shut.

“Later. We’ve got plenty of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Family spends the summer together, but Steve discovers the toll the presidency is taking on his husband.

**Washington DC, July 2018**

Michelle threw herself into the swimming pool, spraying the rest of the family with water and prompting Thor into following her int the water. Steve laughed, even as he ducked back to avoid the worst of the spray. When he opened his eyes, they instantly fell on Tony, who was right in the splash zone and now completely drenched. Tony spat out a stream of water, and Steve burst out laughing again.

“I hate you,” Tony informed him.

“No you don’t.”

“Papa, look. Look-a me!” Harley exclaimed. “Swim!”

“Yeah, you’re swimming,” Steve agreed as Harley kicked his little legs furiously, powering his inflatable ring forward. “Wow! You’re so fast.”

“I catch you!”

“You’re gonna catch me? Oh no, I better swim fast.” Steve began swimming, long slow strokes, allowing Harley to catch his ankle easily.

“Gotcha! Daddy, I got papa!”

Harley clung on to Steve’s foot, which resulted in some very undignified hopping and a test of his flexibility. Both of which, Tony found obviously hilarious.

“Good job,” Tony called, grabbing Thor’s collar to stop the dog from following Michelle out of the pool as she climbed out to dive in again. “Hang on tight, or he’ll get away.”

Harley turned, grinning up at Steve, tugging his foot so that Steve had to hop closer.

“Gotcha,” Harley repeated.

“Yeah, you got me,” Steve agreed. “You got me good.”

Harley giggled. It morphed into a screech when Tony came up behind him, plucking him out of the ring and spinning him through the air. Steve slipped underwater when his foot was suddenly thrown away, knocking him off balance. When he resurfaced, Tony was grinning smugly down at him. 

“Payback sucks, huh?”

Steve shook his head, his grin belaying his annoyance, and stepped forward. Tony came easily when Steve slipped an arm around his waist to pull him close, leaning into Steve in anticipation.

“Hold on,” Steve said, then covered Harley’s hand with his eyes, grinning into the kiss as Harley squealed and wriggled in Tony’s arms.

“Papa, no!”

“You can’t see this, you’re too young for that,” Steve insisted.

“They’re just kissing. It’s gross,” Michelle called, before canon-balling into the water.

“We’re gross apparently,” Tony informed Steve.

“I think that means we parenting right,” Steve replied.

“Cool. Wanna be really gross?”

Tony put Harley back into the rubber ring - instantly, he set his sights on capturing Thor which, Steve knew from experience, would result in Thor towing him around the pool - then wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and kissing him thoroughly. 

“I love you,” Tony murmured. 

“Love you too.”

They were interrupted by Jarvis’ call of, “Burgers are ready,” from the grill, followed in quick succession by screams of delight from both children. Steve and Tony broke apart, sharing an amused look.

“This is good,” Tony said.

“My kissing? Thank you. I take great pride on my work,” Steve teased.

“No, you asshole,” Tony punched him in the chest. “This. Us. Our family. Together.”

“Always together,” Steve agreed, giving Tony one more kiss, before Harley made his displeasure at missing out on the burgers known. 

“Kids. Who’d have ‘em?” Tony rolled his eyes, stepping away to swing Harley out of the pool and onto the tiles.

X

With Wanda on vacation, bath time was Steve’s sole responsibility. Not that this was a chore; he relished any and all time with his kids, even if it took twice as long because MJ, at nine, had decided she was far too old to share a bath with her baby brother. Harley went first, by necessity of bedtimes, and that was a feat in itself. For a three year old, he was surprisingly strong. Once he’d cleaned up all of the water and dried Harley off, he helped him into his pyjamas then tucked him in.

“Good night little man,” Steve kissed his forehead. “Daddy’ll be in to read you a story and then straight to sleep, understand?”

“Yes sir,” Harley shouted with a cheeky grin that made Steve weep for his teenage years. They were the stuff of his nightmares.

“Good night,” he smiled. “Sleep tight.”

“Night night papa.”

Then it was on to MJ’s room, dragging her away from her current book by prying it out of her hands and insisting that yes, she really had to have a shower and no, she couldn’t go to bed all chlorine-y from the pool. Michelle huffed, but complied. Steve helped her wash her hair, making sure she got all of the shampoo out, before leaving her to it while he turned down her bed. He picked up a pair of sneakers that hadn’t quite made it to the closet, and rescued two of her stuffed animals that had fallen down between the bed and the wall, then returned to the bathroom to get Michelle out before she turned into a prune. When she pouted at him, he was reminded so strongly of Tony, that Steve could barely succeed in containing his smile.

“Come on. Out,” he insisted.

“Fine,” Michelle sighed dramatically, climbing out of the tub and into the waiting towel.

“Thank you princess,” he said, before attacking her hair with a towel and eliciting a squeak of protest from his daughter.

“Alright,” Steve said once Michelle was tucked up in bed. “Tell me all about this book then.”

Ever since she’d first learned to read, Michelle had devoured books, a habit that both Steve and Tony were only too happy to indulge. For the past few years however, she’d outgrown a bedtime story. Instead, she and Steve had developed a new tradition, wherein every evening she would tell Steve what had happened in her book so far. It was a moment just between the two of them, and even when he was away with Tony on State visits, he always called home every night so she could update him on the story. 

Michelle launched into a detailed description of Lyra’s attempts to escape from Bolvanger, with a dramatic retelling of how the Gobblers almost succeeded in tearing Lyra and Pan apart. By the time she finished, her eyes were drooping and, despite her best efforts, a yawn snuck across her face.

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Steve said, taking the book from her.

“It is,” MJ replied, lying down and snuggling up with her chosen soft toy.

“Good night honey,” he murmured, brushing back her hair before kissing her temple.

“Night papa. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Is daddy coming in?” she mumbled.

Huh. Tony usually arrived before they finished, after reading Harley’s bedtime story. He would stand in the doorway and roll his eyes, smiling the entire time.

“I’ll see where he is,” Steve promised. “But don’t worry if you fall asleep before he gets here.”

“Okay,” Michelle yawned.

Steve smiled. All the fresh air and swimming was finally catching up with her. He left her room, pulling the door closed carefully behind him. He doubted MJ would be awake by the time Tony appeared.

Then Steve noticed the light on in Harley’s bedroom, spilling out of the still-open door.  He glanced at his watch; it was long past Harley’s bedtime, and he couldn’t hear Tony reading to him. Admittedly, yes, Harley had a habit of guilt-tripping Tony into reading more than one story, but even so, this was pushing it. 

When Steve stepped into the room, Harley was blinking sleepily at him from the bed.

“Harley? Why are you still awake?”

“Waiting for daddy.”

“I think daddy got held up, little man,” Steve said. “How about I sing to you instead?”

Harley nodded, his eyes already closing. Steve sang a few bars of a lullaby until he was sure Harley was asleep, then went in search of his errant husband.

He ducked into the living room first then, finding it empty, used the connecting doorway to the master bedroom. 

“Tony?” he called. 

No reply. 

Then he heard the squeak of shoes on tile, followed by a thump and a muffled curse. Trying to ignore the unsettled feeling in his stomach, Steve followed the sounds into the bathroom and stopped. 

Tony was sprawled on the floor, half leaning against the edge of the tub, attempting to cling on with one hand. His feet slid ineffectually against the floor as he tried to find traction, his eyes unfocused and facing in entirely the wrong direction. Tony seemed to give up on trying to get up, and rolled his head around, freezing when he finally saw Steve.

“Oops,” he said, then burst into a fit of giggles.

Except Steve had never been in a situation less funny. And yes, he counted combat.

Swallowing down the betrayal that burned in his throat, he crossed the room and knelt down at Tony’s side.

“You don’t smell drunk,” he observed.

“Vodka doesn’t have a smell,” Tony informed him. Then he started to laugh again. Only this time, his laughter quickly turned into wracking sobs. Pushing himself off of the tub, he all but launched his torso into Steve, his forehead slamming into Steve’s shoulder. Steve caught him, then spotted the pill bottle on the floor behind him. Reaching out with one hand, he picked up up and read the label: _Stark, Anthony E. Vicodin 500mg._

Steve squeezed his eyes shut.

“‘m such a fuck up,” Tony mumbled into Steve’s shoulder. “’s all my fault. ‘m gonna lose, ‘m gonna lose you. My fault.”

Steve swallowed. He slipped the - Jesus - almost empty pill bottle into his pocket. He got his balance, before rising to his feet with a groan, bringing Tony with him. Tony swayed precariously, until Steve swung one of his arms around Steve’s own shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured and half carried, half dragged Tony into the bedroom and deposited him on the bed. 

At least Tony had stopped crying, but he just lay there, staring up at the ceiling with half-dried tears on his face as Steve began removing his shoes. He got Tony out of his shoes, then his shirt, and had him halfway out of his trousers when, at last, Tony spoke.

“Wasn’t s’posed to be me,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Steve frowned.

“Wasn’t s’posed to be me. Here. S’posed to be Arno. Asshole. No. I don’t mean that. He’s not an asshole. Well. Maybe a li’l bit an asshole. Cause is his fault. Is his fault I’m here. Cause he’s dead. Asshole. An’ now I’m here an’ he’s dead an’ you’re gonna leave me cause ‘m fucked up. ‘m fucked up Steve.”

Steve’s throat tightened. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t, and the edges of his vision began to blur with unshed tears.

“Wasn’t s’posed to be me,” Tony whispered.

Quickly stripping his own clothes and tossing them aside, Steve climbed into bed and gathered Tony up in his arms. Tony was already asleep, snoring into Steve’s shoulder as Steve picked up his phone with his free hand and did a quick search for Arno on Wikipedia. The main result was the river, but on the disambiguation page, he found what he was looking for: _Arno Stark, brother of President Anthony Edward Stark_. When he clicked on the article, the first thing he saw was the date of birth followed by the date of death: May 2nd, 1971 - December 16th, 1991. Steve stared down at Tony, asleep in his arms.

Arno Stark, Tony’s elder brother by five years. Arno Stark who, until today, Steve didn’t know existed. Arno Stark, who neither Tony nor Howard ever mentioned. Arno Stark who died at twenty. 

Arno Stark who was somehow to blame for Tony being here.

Steve had a horrifying suspicion what he meant by that. He hoped he was wrong, but knowing Howard, he doubted he was.

X

The next morning, Steve woke first. That should’ve been his first clue that something was wrong; Tony was the early riser in their family, but lately he’d been sleeping later than Steve with increasing regularity. Steve had written it off as the stress of being president. Now, he suspected otherwise. 

Slipping out of bed, he dressed in the clothes he’d abandoned the night before, then crossed the corridor to the dining room.

“Jarvis,” he called, sticking his head round the door. “A word please?”

“Of course Captain,” Jarvis replied.

Steve led the way along the hall, turning into the Lincoln Sitting Room. This way they were as far away as possible from both Tony and the children, without leaving the floor. Jarvis, always picking up on things that weren’t said, automatically closed the door behind them.

“What is Captain?” he asked.

“Who the fuck is Arno Stark?” Steve demanded. “And why the hell would Tony say it’s his fault he’s here?” 

“Perhaps this is a conversation best had with Mr Stark,” Jarvis replied carefully.

“No,” Steve shook his head. He was tired of coming to the table with only half the story. He’d hated it when the brass held information back when he was in the army; he was damned if he was going to have his marriage like that. “No, I need to know now.”

“Arno Stark was Howard and Maria’s eldest son,” Jarvis explained. “He was a sickly child, but it only made him kind. He was very like Maria. Howard adored him.”

Steve found it difficult to imagine Howard adoring anyone except himself.

“When Tony was born, Arno was the picture of a perfect older brother,” Jarvis continued. “He doted on Tony, finding the correct balance between teasing, as siblings are won’t to do, and support. However, I believe Tony always felt somewhat in Arno’s shadow. As they grew older, they… It’s not that they were not close. They were, in their own way. But they were very different. Howard always made it clear that his ambition for Arno was the presidency. He was to run the country, and Tony was to run the company.”

“You mean he treated Tony like sloppy seconds.”

“He showed certain preferences towards Arno, at times, it is true.” Bless Jarvis, ever the diplomat. Perhaps he should’ve been the one in the West Wing, British citizenship notwithstanding. “However. When he was twenty, Arno was driving back one night with Maria when, as best we know, he lost control of the car and it went off the road. Both Arno and Maria were killed instantly.”

“Jesus,” Steve swore. “So Howard just decided to bump Tony up to first place?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Shit.”

Steve dragged a hand over his face. Just when he thought Howard Stark couldn’t surprise him any more, he found a way.

“Might I enquire as to what has brought this on?” Jarvis asked.

Steve closed his eyes. A sickening thought hit like a punch to the gut: did Jarvis know? Had Jarvis always known and said nothing? He didn’t want to think that way, but Steve’ mind was running at a thousand miles an hour.

“I need to talk to Tony,” he said instead. “Can you get Michelle and Harley’s breakfast please?”

“Of course Captain,” Jarvis nodded.

They left the Lincoln Sitting Room, and Steve went to wake his children. Michelle was already awake, of course, with her nose buried in a book.

“Morning honey,” Steve greeted, forcing a smile onto his face. “Breakfast time.”

Without looking up from her book, Michelle climbed out of bed and shuffled out of the room behind him. Usually, Steve would shake his head and laugh, but today, today he just couldn’t. He scooped Harley out of bed, blinking and with hair like a bird’s nest.

“Where’s daddy?” Harley asked when they reached the dining room.

“He’s sleeping,” Steve replied. “You really tired him out yesterday.”

“Is that why he didn’t say good night?” Michelle asked, finally looking up from her book. Typical. The one time Steve could’ve done without being watched.

“Yes,” he lied. “Daddy fell asleep before he could say good night. Listen, there’s something I have to do, so you’re going to have breakfast with Jarvis, okay?”

“Okay,” Harley agreed, bless his heart. 

Michele eyed him, and Steve cursed his too-perceptive for her own good daughter. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and kissed the top of her head, before returning to the master suite. 

Tony was still sprawled out across the bed. Steve stepped into the dressing room. 

When they moved in, they’d turned the dressing room into a study-come-den, somewhere for both Steve and Tony to use when they wanted time alone. And it was somewhere for Tony to work in without going over to the West Wing. Steve used it too, but over time it became more of a study and less of a den, as they realised that they didn’t actually want to spend time away from their children. Today, Steve stood in the doorway, and wondered what secrets Tony had hidden in here. He pulled the Vicodin bottle from his pocket and stared at it, before getting to work. 

He found eight half-empty bottles of Vicodin hidden throughout the room, and a further three buried in Tony’s shelves in the bathroom. Steve found himself staring long and hard at the bottle of mouthwash, until his resolve cracked and the took a swig. 

Instantly he spat it back out. 

Vodka. 

He had an almost overwhelming urge to pour it down the drain. That, or smash it against the wall. His grip on the edge of the sink tightened, until his knuckles were pure white. 

A groan from the other room snapped him out of his reverie. Steve left the bathroom and stood in the bedroom doorway. Tony groaned again, rolling onto his back and squeezing the bridge of his nose. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and searched the room until they fell on Steve.

“Shit.”

“Morning,” Steve said. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind in, in the hope that it would muffle the sounds of the ensuing argument for the kids. 

Tony sat up, looking all the worse for it, shuffling to the edge of the bed and dropping his head into his hands.

“Just do it,” he said, his voice flat.

“Do what?” 

“Leave. I mean, you are leaving, right?”

“No,” Steve replied.

Tony stared at him.

“You must be a bigger idiot than I thought. "

“Yeah, I must be,” Steve agreed, the burning back in his throat, this time joined by burning behind his eyes. “You lied to me. We said we’d do this together. But when you’re lying to me, when you’re keeping things like this-“ he threw the pill bottle onto the bed, “-from me, then I have to think maybe, maybe you don’t wanna to be together.”

“What? Of course not,” Tony replied. “Steve-“

“How long has this been going on?” Steve interrupted. 

“Since Harley,” Tony admitted.

His worst fears confirmed. Two years. Steve felt like an idiot. 

“You don’t have a sore back, do you?”

Tony shook his head.

“God, Tony. Jesus.”

“I’m so sorry. Steve. You’ve gotta believe me. I am. I’m sorry. And it doesn’t matter what I say, because you’re gonna leave.”

“I’m not going to leave.”

“I can’t go to rehab,” Tony pointed out. “I go to rehab, I get impeached. The decisions I made, the things I’ve done, all of that gets called into question. And I’m doing good here. Aren’t I? I think I’m doing good.”

“You are,” Steve agreed.  “You are good. But you lied.”

“I’m an addict, Steve, that’s what we do. You know I’m an addict. I told you that ten years ago.”

“And I said we’d deal with it together.” Steve crossed the distance between them. His hands hovered over Tony’s hips without actually touching. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. What happened? Last night.”

Tony closed his eyes. Steve could see him trembling. He tipped forward until his forehead bumped into Steve’s collarbone. Slowly, Steve wound his arms around Tony, terrified that he might slip away.

“I don’t sleep,” Tony murmured. “I took my normal dose. But it… I couldn’t feel it. It wasn’t doing anything. So I doubled it. And washed it down with the vodka in-“

“Your mouthwash.”

“You found that, huh?”

“Oldest trick in the book.”

“I said I was a liar. I didn’t say I was a good one.”

“You’ve lied to me for two years.”

“I know,” Tony nodded. “And I’m sorry. I understand if you can’t forgive me.”

“Tell me you were never drunk or high when you had the kids.”

“ _Never_. Steve, I would never risk them like that. You have to believe me.”

Steve leaned forward, his nose in Tony’s hair. He breathed. Eventually he pulled back, cupping Tony’s face in both hands. 

“Okay. I believe you. I’m going to call Wanda, and increase her time with the kids,” he said slowly. “And I’m going to spend more time with you. And you and me, we are going to deal with this. Together. Because that’s what we do. And the minute the clock hits the twenty first of January twenty twenty, you check into rehab and you get clean.”

“Yes,” Tony agreed. “Absolutely. I want… I don’t want to be like this. I want to be clean. To be a good dad, a good husband. The husband you deserve.”

“I don’t care about the husband I deserve,” Steve said. “I care about the husband I have. Even if he is an idiot.”

“You knew that going in,” Tony shrugged.

“Yeah. I did. And one more thing. Your father is never allowed to see Michelle or Harley again. I will not let him treat them the way he treated you and Arno. I won’t let him make them into his latest puppets in the Stark Dynasty. I mean it. He is never going to see them again.”

“Okay.”

“Now, we are going to take a shower. There will be no sex, because you look like shit, and I’m pissed as hell. Then we’re going to have breakfast and you’re going to apologise to Michelle and Harley for last night, and tell them that you fell asleep because you were tired. And you’re going to spend the deal making it up to them.”

“Good plan,” Tony nodded.

“And tonight you’re going to make it up to me.”

“You mean…?” Tony’s eyes flickered towards the bed.

“Yes.”

“Even better.”

“And if you ever, ever doubt that I don’t love you, you come to me and I will prove to you otherwise, every day if I have to,” Steve finished. “But if you ever lie to me again, about anything, I am out of that door and you will never see me again.”

“Square deal,” Tony agreed, meeting Steve’s gaze unwaveringly. “Together.”

“Together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that in reality, if a president went into rehab so soon after leaving office, they would probably call his work into question anyway, so let's just use a little artistic license here.
> 
> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a devastating incident in Tennessee, Tony finds a new drive and a new cause. Obadiah Stane shows his true colours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING PLEASE READ**  
>  This chapter contains a lot of discussion about a mass school shooting. Please, please be careful with your own wellbeing before reading. The last thing I want is to trigger someone. The actual shooting itself occurs offscreen, but they talk about it a lot. If you're unsure, or if you just don't want to read about it but still want to know what happens, please let me know and I will give you a summary of what happens. The link to my Tumblr is, as always, in the notes at the end of the chapter.
> 
> You might also notice that I've added the Graphic Descriptions of Violence tag. I should've had this from the beginning but didn't think. It doesn't apply to this chapter, but will apply to the next. I thought I'd let you all know now.

**Tennessee, December 2018**

Tony’s grip on Steve’s hand was vice like. He could feel him trembling and, for once, he doubted it had any relation to his addictions. Steve himself felt hollow as he stared down at row upon row of tributes in front of Rose Hill Elementary School. He was sure that behind Tony’s sunglasses, his eyes were red with unshed tears. Steve was only able to keep it together thanks to his years of military training. Even so, there was something about the deaths of children that threatened his resolve.

Crouching down, he read the nearest cards. 

_Nate, forever in our hearts._

_Tommy. Gone too soon. Rest in peace x_

And then, most heartbreaking of all, one written in wobbly child’s script, so like MJ’s writing used to be: _Teddy. You are my best friend. I will miss you. Love Billy._

He closed his eyes. Dropping his head, he crossed himself, saying a silent prayer for the children murdered two days ago.

X

**Washington DC, two days ago**

“Alright you monsters,” Tony declared, pulling his suit jacket from the back of his chair. He smacked a kiss to both Michelle and Harley’s cheeks. “You be good. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and definitely don’t do anything I would do.”

Michelle looked at him like he was crazy. Steve chuckled, leaning back in his own chair to pull Tony in to his side. Tony slung his arms around Steve’s neck, kissing the top of his head. 

“Love you,” Tony murmured.

Steve tilted his head back, giving him a cheeky grin.

“You’re alright.”

Tony raised his fist to punch Steve in the shoulder, but he was interrupted by Pepper rushing into the dining room. This was unusual enough - Pepper rarely ventured into the residence, and never this early in the morning - but combined with the expression on her face, Steve knew it was bad news. She looked shaken, and in all the time he’d known Pepper, he’d never seen her shaken.

“Tony. I need to talk to you. Now,” she said.

“Alright,” Tony agreed.

After a moment’s deliberation, Steve followed them out into the hall. If it was anything beyond his clearance, they’d tell him.

“What’s happened?” Tony asked as Steve joined them.

“There’s been a school shooting. In Tennessee,” Pepper explained. “Rose Hill Elementary School.”

“Oh God,” Steve breathed.

An elementary school… He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to hurt children like that. What on earth could drive a person to do such a thing? Tony stared at her in horror. Steve swallowed his own pain and anger, forcing himself to become Captain Rogers once more.

“Casualties?” he asked.

“Unconfirmed.”

“But?”

“At least twelve dead. Unknown injured.”

“And the shooter?”

“The police are in pursuit. He’s believed to be Aldrich Killian. Connection to the school is unknown.”

“I, uh…” Tony paused, exhaling shakily. “What should I do? I need to do something.”

“I’ll arrange a press conference for this afternoon,” Pepper suggested. “I would advise you to make a statement, but not to take questions until we know more.”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded. “Yeah, okay. Do that.”

Pepper nodded.

Steve mouthed, “Thank you.”

She managed a pained smile, then hurried off, her fingers already dancing across the screen on her cell phone. When he turned to Tony, Steve found his jaw set, determination in his eyes.

“Honey?”

“This is it, isn’t it?” He swallowed. “This is the moment. Time to get off of my ass.”

X

“Natasha?” Tony called, once they were back in the car. “I want no press at the hospital.”

“On it,” Natasha replied.

“Anyone gets bitchy, tell them that I’m not here for the press, I’m here for the families and if they don’t like it, they can stick it up their ass. Use those exact words.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

And Steve smiled a little despite everything. Tony’s hand was still in his. They were loathe to let go unless they had to, not here, not now, in this situation. Even in the town-car, away from prying eyes. He could feel the tremors, but when he looked at Tony, there was something different about him, something changed in the past few days. A strength, a determination that wasn’t there before. This was it. This was the cause that Tony would be remembered for, Steve was sure of it. 

The town-car came to a stop outside the hospital, and Tony slipped his sunglasses back on, hiding his red eyes. When they stepped out of the car, the press was there of course, the vultures, but as soon as they stepped through the front doors, it fell blissfully quiet. Natasha was damn good at her job. 

There was something heartbreaking about seeing children with gunshot wounds.

Steve had never quite learned how to deal with it while in Iraq or Afghanistan, seeing children’s bodies broken by bullets or bombs. But that was a war-zone. This was a small town in rural Tennessee. These children should be outside playing, not recovering in hospital after witnessing their friends and classmates being mown down by a hail of bullets. 

“You look like the president,” one little girl declared from her bed.

“Really?” Tony grinned. “Huh, that’s convenient, since I am the president.”

Her face scrunched up, regarding him suspiciously.

“No, you’re not,” she decided.

“Fine, you caught me,” Tony sighed. “I’m Tony. What’s your name?”

“America.”

“That’s a pretty cool name. Who’s your friend?” Tony asked, pointing to the teddy bear cuddled into America’s side.

“His name’s Guillermo,” America declared. 

“That’s a good name.”

“He’s my best friend. He makes me feel safe.”

“You don’t feel safe, huh?”

“No,” America shook her head. “There was a man with a gun at school. He hurt lots of people.”

“He hurt you?”

She nodded. Steve felt a lump press against his windpipe. She couldn’t be any more than six. What six year old should know what it is to be shot? Tony squeezed her hand.

“I’m going to make sure you feel safe from now on. I promise,” he murmured. “I’m going to do everything I can.”

“Thank you,” America smiled, and Tony blinked.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and if anyone other than Steve noticed that his voice was a little think, no one said anything.

After the hospital, it was on to the high school, where a press conference had been arranged. The audience was filled with survivors, and parents, and high school students, as well as the press. Steve caught a wing of Christine Everheart, and swore. Who’d let her back on the okay list?

“You ready for this?” he murmured, as they waited backstage.

“Yeah,” Tony replied distantly, playing with the notecards in his hands. They’d written the speech the night before, going over every word, trying to find the right balance of grief and anger and support. Even so, Tony still wasn’t happy with it. 

“Just do what you can do,” Steve said.

Tony nodded. 

Then it was time for him to take the stage.

“Hi,” Tony began. “The events which occurred here two days ago…” he trailed off, staring at the cards. 

Then he stuffed the cards into his pocket and pulled off his sunglasses, putting every emotion on display. 

“The events which occurred here two days ago should never have happened,” Tony declared. “And they are our fault.”

A ripple ran through the audience.

“They are,” Tony continued. ‘We can kid ourselves that it’s not our fault, we’re not the one picking up a gun and walking in to a school and murdering children. That wasn’t us, that was the guy in custody, who I hope, will never see daylight again, and who I refuse to name. I refuse to give him the glory he wants. Don’t say his name. Say that names of the twenty three kids he murdered. Say the names of the teachers who laid down their lives to protect the children in their care. Say the names of the kids who survived his attack. But don’t say his name.

“But as I was saying, we are all to blame. Because we’ve become comfortable with zero accountability. Well, here’s the truth guys: it is our fault. Because this has happened before, and if we do nothing, it’s going to happen again. In another town, another state, another school, there will be more dead children unless we make changes to our gun laws. That is a fact. 

“And to anyone who objects, to anyone who says that changing the law is taking away their right to bear arms, their constitutional right, I have one thing to say to you: what about their right to life?

“Huh? What about the rights of those twenty three children and six adults, what about their right to live? Because this wasn’t an act of defence. This was an act of violence. Every time something like this happens, it is never an act of defence, it’s an act of violence. An act of violence against children. What about their right to defend themselves, huh? They never had a chance, because they are six years old, and what six year old can defend themselves against an asshole with an AR-15? What can a six year old do to defend themselves against an automatic weapon? Shit all is the answer. And I’m supposed to go to my nine year old and say _Sorry honey, I know you’re afraid, but a bunch of jerks who need guns to make them feel powerful is more important than your safety. Than your life._ You want me to tell the six year old I met today, in hospital, who’s about to lose her leg to a gunshot wound, who is afraid to go to sleep at night that she has no right to be alive? Tough shit. I refuse. Which is why, as soon as I return to Washington, I will be putting legislation in place to make immediate amendments to our gun laws. Thank you, goodbye.”

The room erupted into a wall of sound and light, as the reporters went wild, and every camera attempted to capture the moment. Tony ignored it all, walking straight offstage to Steve. 

“Well?” he asked, raising his chin defiantly.

Steve smiled.

“You are getting so much sex tonight.”

X

Of course, it wasn’t as easy as that. There were rules and procedures, but Tony was going through every one and pushing forward with a determination Steve had never seen before. 

He’d never been prouder.

It gave him hope, for the day when they walked out of the White House and Tony was able to get rehab quietly and without repercussion, for the life they could life together. 

Maybe, just maybe, they could do this.

X

There was a letter waiting for Steve when he arrived at his office in the East Wing. It wasn’t unusual for his to receive letters from the public, particularly as an openly gay, decorated former officer. Which also meant not all of it was good. 

Slicing open the envelope, Steve sat down and began to read. The letter was handwritten, always a good sign.

_Dear Captain Rogers,_

_My name is Gina Davis. My son, Chad, was one of the children killed in Rose Hill last week._

_For as long as I can remember, Chad wanted to join the army. He was always dressing up and playing soldier. I thought he’d grow out of it. But lately, I started to believe that he wouldn’t. He was a good boy. And he would’ve made a good soldier. And you were his hero._

_I want to thank you for being my son’s hero. For everything you’ve done for this country, both in the service, and now, as our First Gentleman. You inspired my little boy to be better. To be a hero. And because of him, four of his classmates are alive. He distracted that man so they could hide. He’s a hero._

_I like what the president said about not naming that man. I can’t say his name. But I can talk about my Chad. So I want to thank you, and your husband, and if he wants a name, I would proud for him to talk about my Chad._

_Thank you Captain Rogers for everything._

_With the kindest of regards,_

_Gina Davis_

When he got to the end, Steve re-read the letter straight away. 

And then read it again. 

By the time he finished, tears were rolling down his cheeks.

Pulling out a piece of paper and a pen, he began to write.

_Dear Mrs Davis,_

_Your letter moved me beyond words. The bravery and courage shown by your son should never be forgotten. His sacrifice should never be repeated. I and my husband will do everything in our power to ensure that it never does._

_I’m not a hero, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who did what needed to be done. Your Chad, he is a hero._

_I would like to invite you to the White House to meet with myself and the President. I understand if it would be too painful, however you would be welcome at any time. I enclose the contact detail for my secretary, Maria Hill. Do not worry about the cost of travel, we will cover that._

_Finally, I wish to extend both mine and my family’s deepest condolences for your loss. I cannot begin to imagine the pain you are going through. You and your son are in my thoughts and prayers._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Steve Rogers_

Tucking the letter carefully into his pocket, Steve left his office, and crossed through the residence to the West Wing.

“Is he free?” he asked Pepper.

“Yeah, go on in,” she smiled.

“Thanks.”

Tony looked up as Steve entered the Oval Office, a smile spreading across his face.

“Hey you,” he called.

“You need to read this,” Steve said, pulling Mrs Davis’ letter from his pocket.

Tony rounded the desk to take the letter, perching on the edge as he read. When he finished, he folded the letter and handed it back to Steve. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“Wow,” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

“You know, Chad’s Law has a nice ring to it.”

“It does,” Steve agreed.

“I’m doing the right thing here, aren’t I?” Tony frowned.

“You’re getting a lot of sex for it,” Steve grinned.

“You’re right. Screw being right, I’m getting laid so who gives a shit?” Tony joked.

But Steve stepped forward between Tony’s legs, folding himself around his husband. Since the truth about the drugs and the alcohol came out, Tony allowed himself to be much more physical, seeking physical comfort and reassurance that Steve was only too happy to give.

“I’m right here,” Steve whispered.

Tony nodded against his shoulder.

X

“Good afternoon, Captain,” Jarvis greeted them as they stepped out of the elevator. “Master Harley, Miss Michelle.”

“Hi Jarvis,” Steve smiled, while Harley and Michelle took off towards their rooms. “I told them we were watching the new _Wreck it Ralph_ tonight but only if they finished their homework.”

“Ah. Nothing motivates a Stark quite like the incentive of reward,” Jarvis nodded. “I used to find the promise of double chocolate marshmallows quite the incentive to persuade Mr Stark to complete his own studies.”

“Yeah, Who needs a stick when you have the right carrot?” Steve agreed. “I still do that with Tony, although it’s not exactly chocolate marshmallows I give him.”

“Indeed.”

“Speaking of, is he home yet?”

“He is in the Yellow Oval Room with Mr Stane.”

“Great,” Steve sighed. Over the years, Obadiah Stane had done little to improve Steve’s opinion of him, and seemed unlikely to change in the foreseeable future. He was another part of their lives that Steve would not miss when Tony left office. “Thanks Jarvis.”

“Dinner will be ready in approximately forty minutes,” Jarvis nodded.

Steve detoured into his own bedroom, abandoning his jacket, before heading for the living room to check if Tony needed saving from Stane. One of Stane's least objectionable problems was the fact that he either didn’t know or didn’t care when someone wasn’t interested, and would ramble on for hours unless someone stopped him. The man adored the sound of his own voice. Their living room connected directly to the Yellow Oval Room, and as Steve approached, he could hear Tony and Stane’s hushed voices. The door wasn’t fully closed he realised.

“Tony, you cannot be serious about this,” Stane hissed.

“Never been more serious in my life,” Tony replied. 

“Think of the consequences.”

“I am. I’m thinking of the kids who can go to school, unafraid of being shot by some nut job with a semi-automatic.”

“Think of the political consequences.”

“I’m done in less than two years. Then I retire and live my life instead of Howard’s for the first time."

“Don’t be a fool Tony, we both know that there could consequences for you beyond the political.”

“What are you trying to say, Obie?”

“I’m saying that you should think carefully before pushing on with these gun reforms. For your own safety. Just some friendly advice,” Stane added, and Steve could hear the humourless smile on his face. Then he heard the click of a latch, and let himself into the Yellow Oval Room.

“Hey,” Steve called, drawing Tony’s attention.

“Hi.”

“So what did Stane want? Beyond threatening you.”

“You heard that, huh?”

“Door was open,” Steve replied, unapologetic about eavesdropping. Hell, he was glad he had. At least it wouldn’t be Tony’s words against Stane’s if anything happened. 

“I don’t think he meant it,” Tony shrugged. “Least I hope not. He’s just pissed, cause I decided to shut down Stark Industries weapons manufacturing today, decided to refocus them on green energy. Howard is furious, but I have a controlling interest, so tough shit. And Obie’s a shareholder, so…”

“Doesn’t mean he should be threatening you.”

“He’s all talk,” Tony insisted. “So hey, how was your day?”

“It was good,” Steve replied, allowing Tony to pull him in between his legs, running his hand over Steve’s hips. “The kids are excited about movie night.”

“I’m excited about movie night,” Tony grinned.

“That’s because you’re a big kid,” Steve teased.

“Guilty,” Tony murmured, mouthing his way up Steve’s neck.

“Dinner’s gonna be ready in about forty minutes,” Steve remarked, his pulse jumping as Tony bit gently on his neck, sucking the skin between his teeth.

“We could do a lot in forty minutes.”

“Challenge accepted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the face of rising discontent due to Tony's new gun laws, Tony and Steve agree to visit Dallas, Texas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING:** Graphic descriptions of gunshot wounds.

**Air Force One, October 23rd 2019**

**11.20am**

Steve looked up from the video on his phone at the sharp rap on the cabin door.

“Come in,” he called.

“Captain,” Natasha nodded. “We’re going to land in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you,” Steve nodded. He returned to the video on his phone, smiling as he watched Thor bound after Harley and Tony in the gardens of the White House on the screen. Wanda had taken it for him the day before, but in the rush of leaving, he’d never actually had the chance to watch it. Then, pocketing his phone, he crossed to knock on the toilet door. “Tony?” he called. “We’re landing in just over ten. You okay?”

In reply, he heard the lock slide open, and Steve let himself into the cramped stall. 

Tony was standing there, in his suit, with his tie hanging undone around his neck.

“I can’t,” he said between gritted teeth, raising his shaking hands in explanation. ‘Steve, I can’t-“

“It’s okay,” Steve murmured, cutting him off. He wiped away the tears of frustration that had escaped from Tony’s cheeks and kissed him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Yeah?”

Tony nodded, swallowing, and muttered, “Yeah.”

Steve kissed him once more, then quickly tied the offending tie, gently sliding the knot up to the base of Tony’s throat.

“I hate this,” Tony admitted. “I don’t want to be an addict anymore.”

“Soon,” Steve promised him. “In six months, we’re done. We’re free.”

“Yeah, six months,” Tony nodded. “Good. I can’t wait to be clean. And can’t wait to start living our life.”

“Our life,” Steve echoed. “That sounds pretty good.” 

“Just you and me, the kids, the dogs, in our house. Waking up and seeing the ocean, walking by the beach.”

“We might have to work eventually,” Steve pointed out.

“I’m kind of a billionaire,” Tony shrugged. 

Steve grinned.

“I love you,” he said. “So much. Even after everything we’ve been through, I still love you as much as I did twelve years ago.”

“It’s been twelve years? Wow,” Tony replied. “I might actually have to start believing you then.”

“You should. Because I mean it. Always have, always will.”

“Gross. You’re disgusting and soppy and I hate it,” Tony declared, sliding past Steve to get the the door, and squeezing his ass on the way past.

“Get off,” Steve grinned, before slapping Tony’s ass as they stumbled out of the toilet.

“Quit it, or they’re all gonna think we had a quickie in the bathroom,” Tony glared. 

“Not this time.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Tony grimaced.

“Hey. The other night, not your fault,” Steve said, catching Tony’s wrist. “That was the drugs.”

“Doesn’t do much for a man’s ego though,” Tony shrugged. 

Steve tugged him into his side as they sat down and buckled themselves in.

“Amazingly, I’m not going to fall out of love with you just because you couldn’t get it up,” he murmured into Tony’s ear. “And there is a lot we can do even if your dick decides it doesn’t wanna play ball.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony smirked. “You gonna show me some of these many things?”

“I’ll show you them all.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“I’ll make a date in my calendar,” Tony declared, giggling when Steve punched him in the shoulder. “Uncle! Uncle! No beating me up, I’m the president!”

Steve laughed, hooking his chin over Tony’s head and revealing in the closeness between them as they came in to land at Dallas Love Field.

**Dallas Love Field, 11.35am**

Emerging from Air Force One, hand in hand, to wave at the crowds was old hat by now. Tony, in sunglasses, so no one could see his bloodshot eyes. Taking the steps arm in arm to hide his balance problems. At the foot of the steps, Tony pulled Steve in for a brief kiss, nothing more than a brush of the lips that wasn’t in the script, but that came with a whispered, “Thank you for everything.”

“Always,” Steve replied. “Together?”

“Together,” Tony smiled. 

They didn’t know it, but that image of the tow of them, surrounded by people but in a world of their own, would become on of the most famous pictures in the world in the following days. 

“Tony,” Stane greeted, his voice booming and his smile wide, as if he hadn’t spent their last meeting screaming at Tony for his continued refusal to abandon the gun reform laws. It was why they were here after all. To appease the voters for Obie, who was campaigning to be Tony’s successor. 

While Tony and Stane played their part for the cameras, Steve turned to Sunset Bain-Stane, Obadiah’s wife.

“Sunset,” Steve nodded.

“Steven,” she replied. “How was the flight?”

It was a script, a routine, the part they both played whenever they were required to interact. Neither forgot the fact that Howard once hoped Tony would marry Sunset. It made Steve more than a little uncomfortable to see her married to Stane. For all her faults, he wouldn’t have wished that on Sunset.

“It was good. How are your children?”

“Little hellions,” Sunset smiled humourlessly, deviating from their script in a jarring change of events. “Yours?”

“Monsters. But I love them,” he replied, with a genuine smile.

“You’re lucky,” Sunset said, and they both knew she meant it in regards to more than just MJ and Harley.

“I am,” Steve nodded. 

What must it be like, he wondered, marrying a man more than twice your age for power and position? It certainly wasn’t for love, at least not on Stane’s part. He wasn’t capable of loving anyone but himself. What was that like, to know that your husband barely even liked you, and only just tolerated you, and that was only due to your connections? He was lucky, Steve knew that, and as he looked at Tony, he couldn’t help but smile. 

 _I love him_ , he thought. _He loves me_. 

It was a certainty and a comfort that Sunset, like many others, was denied. 

Tony caught him looking and grinned.

“We have a surprise for you,” Stane declared, after introducing Tony and Steve to Governor of Texas, Calvin Chadwick and his wife Whitney Frost, the former actress. “Thought you’d like this one.” 

“Is that a sixty one Lincoln Continental convertible?” Tony asked, walking towards the car. He loved his cars, so much so that Steve had bought him a flashy orange Audi R8 for his birthday just that year.

“Sure is,” Governor Chadwick nodded. “It’s one of the many in collection.”

“I think I need to be visiting your garage,” Tony grinned.

From the corner of his eye, Steve noticed Natasha whispering to Clint.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” Natasha replied. “It’s just, the convertible, it’s a last minute change. We weren’t informed.”

“They’ve got a helicopter covering us,” Clint added. “We should be fine. We’ll be walking right by the car.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded. He trusted their judgement.

And he climbed into the back seat beside Tony.

**12.27pm**

“This a hell of a thing for a kid from Brooklyn,” Steve called, leaning across so Tony could hear him over the noise of the crowds. Tony laughed, squeezing Steve’s hand. He cupped Steve’s cheek, leaning over and pressing their lips together. He tasted like coffee and chapstick, and Steve leaning in to the embrace despite the audience of thousands, and the increase in volume as they kissed.

“Well Mr President, you can’t say that Dallas doesn’t love you,” Whitney Frost called from the front seat.

“No, you certainly can’t,” Tony replied, before turning back to wave at the crowds.

**12.30pm**

Time was a funny thing.

Steve learned that in combat. How the shortest moment could last forever. How the world could stop, and then somehow start again.

He turned away from Tony to wave, and then he heard the first crack. And in some distant part of his brain, he recognised it as gunfire, but why would there be gunfire in the middle of Dallas? It didn’t fully register, until Tony’s hand jerked out of his hand.

He turned and saw Tony’s hands pressed to his throat, saw his jaw stutter as he gulped for breath, but it didn’t fully sink in what was happening until he saw the red leaking out from between his fingers.

Before the horror of the situation could sink in, he heard another crack, and Tony’s body spasmed and fell forward and Steve felt something wet spray his face.

Distantly, he heard his own voice yell, “Tony!” 

He lunged forward, hauling Tony’s body up, but there was something on his lip, sliding down. It was irritating, he didn’t need this, he had to help Tony, what was it? He swiped his lip, then stared at what he knew was a piece of skull.

“Tony. Tony!” 

Now he could see that part of Tony’s skull was… gone. Steve hauled him up into his lap, cradling Tony’s head.

“Look at me, look at me, Tony,” he ordered, but Tony’s eyes were empty, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. “Tony!”

A shadow fell over him; glancing over his shoulder, Steve recognised Clint, perched on the back of the car, shielding Steve with his own body. There was wind in his face, and there was no breeze a second ago. It was because the car was speeding away, Steve realised.

Tony’s body slipped down, the deadweight dragging him down. Steve shifted him as best he could, cradling Tony’s head in his lap as he stared down at his husband.

“Tony,” he whispered. “No. Please, don’t. You can’t do this to me. Please honey.”

The whole thing occurred in less than a minute.

Time was a funny thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this, the last thing I expected was to have Sunset Bain feels. Initially, she was just there as someone to be Stane's wife, but then things happened without my permission.
> 
> Also, piece of history: the agent who jumped onto the back of JFK's car after the shooting was actually called Clint. I didn't know this when I started writing this story, or when I cast Clint as a secret service agent; it's just one of those weird coincidences.
> 
> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hospital declares Tony dead, and Steve must return to Washington and face his children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING:** Steve is, understandably, in a terrible headspace for this chapter, and there are some descriptions of the injuries from the shooting. As always, use caution, and feel free to ask me if you're unsure before reading. Tumblr link is, as always, at the bottom of the page.

**Parkland Hospital, October 23rd 2019**

**1.00pm**

Steve sat in the relatives room and stared at the floor. He was aware, vaguely, of Clint by his side. Clint, who’d been beside him since he leaped onto the car in an attempt to protect them from the shooter. Clint, who snapped out orders to the rest of the agents at the hospital, whether they were part of his team or not, and secured the relatives room for Steve while they waited for the doctor.

It was pointless. Steve knew that. He’d been in combat, he’d fought wars. He’d seen this before.

Without looking up, he reached across and took Clint’s hand in his own. He could see Clint look round in surprise out of the corner of his eye, but Steve didn’t move, didn’t try to explain himself.

Clint squeezed his hand.

He didn’t need to explain. 

A murmur of voices from outside, then the door opened, an agent entering the room with a doctor. Only then did Steve look up. But he didn’t get his hopes up.

“Captain Rogers, I’m sorry,” the doctor said.

Steve nodded, and continued staring at the floor.

**Air Force One, 2.32pm**

Steve leaned heavily on the edge of the sink and stared at his reflection.

A ghost stared back.

The ghost of a man who’d died in Afghanistan, and been reborn into a husband and father. A man who knew what it was to face death, to taste death, to see the ones he loved die in front of him. That man was gone.

And now, he was back. 

There was blood on his face and on his clothes. Except Steve knew that it wasn’t just blood. It was brain matter and the little hard chunks were bone from the moment when his husband’s skull exploded.

His fingers clenched.

Steve hated that man.

He’d worked so hard and so long to leave him behind, to leave the pain and memories behind. And then he met Tony, and suddenly it was easy. Easy to forget the heat of the sun beating down on his back, the bitter taste in his mouth after three days without water, the hollow, gaping emptiness of his stomach as he forgot the last time he ate.

He wasn’t a hero.

That man, that ghost, wasn’t a hero.

He wasn’t brave. He was just stupid enough to believe he could get away with it. Tony, Tony was brave. He was afraid, every single day of his life, but he walked out and put on a smile and fought for the people, the people who didn’t even like him, who hated him.

Who murdered him.

“Fuck!”

Steve’s fist slammed into the centre of the mirror, cracks splitting across the glass. Once he stared, he didn’t want to stop, hitting it again and again and again until, as quickly as it began, all the fight went out of him. 

He stared at the shattered reflection of the ghost.

A gentle knock on the door brought him back.

“Steve?”

Clint.

“Yeah?” he replied.

“They want you out there,” Clint called. “Stane wants you there when he’s sworn in.”

Steve huffed.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Of course he does.”

And when he stepped out of the Presidential suite and everyone stared at him, or more accurately, at his blood stained suit, he held their gaze and dared them to say anything. He stood beside Stane as he was sworn in, Tony’s blood in his hair and dared Stane to move first.

**6.15pm**

Steve sat in the conference room, staring at the plush cream carpet, with his hand in Clint’s once more. Anyone who dared to raise their eyebrows at it received a death glare from Clint. As soon as he was sworn in, Stane had apologised and explained that due to everything that had happened, he would need the Presidential suite and office for the remainder of the flight.

Steve stared at him, then said, “Of course. Mr President.”

He’d sat down in the conference, and hadn’t moved for the rest of the flight. Clint joined him, and cajoled him into drinking some water every so often, and made sure no one bothered him. Steve loved him a little bit for that.

As they strapped themselves in to land, he turned his head towards Clint, just a little, without lifting his eyes.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?” Clint replied.

“For trying.”

“It’s my job,” Clint swallowed. “And the President, he was family.”

“He’s not the president now.”

“Stane’s not my president.”

Steve nodded slowly. 

The plane jolted as it returned to earth, and part of Steve thought, _Home_. But this wasn’t home. Not really before, and certainly not now. Home was a house on the edge of a cliff in California, a wedding present from his husband, a place to escape. Home was a penthouse apartment in New York, with an intimidating doorman, the place where they began. 

Home was Tony.

They taxied along the runway at Ronald Regan, finally coming to a halt. No sooner had the doors opened, than a familiar figure in Air Force blues appeared.

“Steve!”

“Rhodey.” 

Steve unlocked his belt and scrambled past Clint to fall into the waiting arms of Tony’s oldest friend. 

“Shit. Steve, holy shit man,” Rhodey breathed.

Steve nodded, burrowing his face into Rhodey’s shoulder, and feeling the fabric grow damp. He was crying, he realised, he was finally crying. He clung to Rhodey, because he wasn’t Tony, but he was as close as it was possible to get right now. 

“Colonel Rhodes,” Stane’s voice boomed, filled with faux sympathy. Steve and rhodey pulled apart; Steve’s jaw clenched. He refused to cry in front of Stane. “Oh God, can’t we get some clean clothes for Captain Rogers?” Stane cried. “There’s press out there, hundred of cameras, we can’t have him walking around wearing-“

“No.”

Steve’s voice rang out, silencing the entire plane.

“No,” he repeated. “They’re going to see. They’re going to see what they did.”

“Captain, I don’t think-“

“I don’t give a shit what you think,” Steve snapped. Then he turned to Rhodey, “I’m going with him. I don’t want him to be alone.”

“Okay,” Rhodey nodded. “I’ll come with you. Barton?”

“Yes sir,” Clint agreed, glancing at Natasha for confirmation.

“You can be debriefed later,” she agreed. “I’ll stay with the President and-“

“With all due respect Agent Romanoff, that won’t be necessary,” Stane interrupted. “I contacted your boss, he’s sending over a new security team that will accompany me. You are to stand down.”

Natasha just stared at him. Steve couldn’t believe it.

“She’s protected Tony for eight years,” he pointed out. “She’s the best agent there is.”

But Stane just gave him a tight smile, turning away in an obvious dismissal. 

“It’s okay,” Natasha murmured to Clint. “Go with Captain Rogers. I’ll report back to Coulson, tell him you’ll be in tomorrow. Go.”

“Alright,” Clint replied grudgingly. 

Steve stared at her.

“Captain, your car is waiting,” Natasha said.

Steve let Rhodey lead him out of the plane, unable to believe that he was losing another member of his family today, this time to politics and bureaucracy. A wall of camera flashes lit up the evening sky, but Steve ignored them. He was numb. Nothing felt real anymore.

 **Walter Reed National Military Medical Centre** , **11.40pm**

Hours passed, and someone else would try to convince Steve to leave, to go home.

He refused. 

He would sit here and wait until the autopsy was over, and then he could take Tony home. 

Clint and Rhodey were the only ones who didn’t push him. Rhodey convinced him to eat something, reminding him that eventually he would be facing his children, and he was no good to them if he didn’t eat. Grudgingly, Steve accept that, and managed to chew his way through a sandwich Clint bought from a vending machine. He couldn’t tell anyone what was in it. It tasted like cardboard. 

Perhaps the most surprising member of the group, and Steve couldn’t have told you who they all were, despite the fact he knew them all, was Sunset. She parked herself in a chair and sat there all night, looking poised and determined. Once, Steve caught her eye, and only for that second did she allow the tremble in her lip to show.

Steve nodded.

Whatever her faults, she wasn’t her husband.

Eventually, Rhodey returned and murmured, “It’s done.”

“I wanna see him.”

“Steve, I don’t-“

“I want to see him,” he insisted. “Alone.”

**11.46pm**

Steve waited until the door closed, leaving him alone in the morgue with his husband, then stepped forward and put his hand on Tony’s chest. The Y incision was stitched neatly, and they’d done their best to cover the destruction of his head.

Steve drew a ragged breath.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’m gonna be okay. I promise. Me and Harley and Michelle, we’ll be okay. We have Jarvis, and Rhodey, and Clint and Natasha and Sam and Wanda, and we’re going to be okay. So you don’t need to worry about us.”

He ran his hand up Tony’s chest, an action he’d done so many times before, up his neck and cupped his cheek.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me. You saved my life, and never knew it. I had nothing, and you gave me a home and a life and a family. You gave me everything, Tony. And I never said thank you. I should’ve said it every day.

“But it’s okay. You can rest now. You’ve done good. You made a difference.”

Reaching under the collar of his shirt, Steve pulled out his dog tags. He could see Tony’s face in his mind, laughing, and he pulled him in by his tags for a kiss. Lifting them from his own neck, he lifted Tony’s head carefully, and settled them around his neck. Then he leaned down and brushed his lips against Tony’s cheek.

“You’re free now.”

**October 24th 2019**

**12.32am**

The house was silent when Steve returned. Rhodey offered to stay with him; Steve thanked him, but declined, preferring to be alone. He finally dismissed Clint, who had bags the size of truck tires under his eyes, then forewent the elevator and chose to walk up the two flights of stairs. He didn’t look in to Michelle or Harley’s rooms, because he was still covered in blood.

At the door to their suite, he hesitated, his hand shaking above the door handle.

Steve squeezed his eyes closed, breathing, then quickly unlatched the door. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside, closing the door again behind him. Somehow, that was worse than opening the door to their bedroom. 

It was exactly how they left it that morning. 

Because they thought they’d be coming home together. 

They had, except one of them was in a casket. 

Steve pulled his tie loose with one hand, dropping it onto the floor. Then, his jacket, folding it carefully, before dropping it on the carpet. Next, his shirt, one button at a time, before stepping out of his shoes and trousers. Finally, his socks and boxers, and he walked through to the bathroom naked and turned on the shower. He turned the temperature up, so that when he stepped under the spray, it was just shy of scalding. Picking up the soap, he began to scrub at the blood stains on his hands.

They weren’t coming off.

Why were they not coming off?

His vision blurred as he scrubbed and scrubbed at the blood, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps that made his chest heave until he threw the soap at the ground. It splintered into pieces and Steve wailed, sinking to the ground and wrapping his arms around his knees as he buried his face in his hands.

He sat there and cried, until the water turned his skin red raw.

It matched the rest of him. 

**6.30am**

Steve woke early, lying in bed and staring at the empty mattress next to him. It didn’t feel real. He’d seen Tony’s body, seen him die, but it still didn’t feel real. Nothing felt real. He just lay there, hand outstretched, and stared. He didn’t wish Tony was there, because wishing was futile.

Tony wasn’t coming back.

He forced himself out of bed, and went through the routines of getting dressed. The collar of his white shirt felt stiff and, despite being of silk, the black tie felt rough in his hands and he secured it around his neck. He pulled on his vest, buttoning it slowly, but left off his jacket. He couldn’t wear it, not yet. It felt suffocating. 

Leaving the suite, he stepped into the family dining room and found Jarvis sitting there, looking more disheveled than Steve had ever seen him. 

“Captain,” Jarvis said, his voice hoarse, standing to greet Steve.

“Jarvis.”

His throat tightened, and he stepped forward into Jarvis’ waiting arms, remembering suddenly how Tony always said that Jarvis gave the best hugs when you were upset. His body shuddered with a dry sob.

“At least he’s at peace now,” Jarvis murmured.

Steve nodded, unable to find the words. 

“Ms Maximoff spent the night in the North Bedroom,” Jarvis relayed. “She insisted. We were able to keep the children from being the news.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, meaning every word. 

They sat together in silence for hours, until Steve heard the tell-tale sounds of his children. Moments later, they bounded into the room, with Wanda on their heels. Her expression was carefully controlled, but Steve could see how her eyes pinched at the corners.

“Papa!” Harley exclaimed, throwing himself into Steve’s lap. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Steve replied, kissing the top of his head.

“Where’s dad?” Michelle frowned. Her too clever eyes were scanning the room, taking in Steve’s outfit, Jarvis’ dishevelment, Wanda’s neutral expression, Tony’s absence.

“Sit down,” Steve said, pulling two chairs round to face him and lifting Harley onto one. Michelle sat down on the other. Steve twisted his hands together. “Yesterday, when we were, when we were in Dallas… Something happened. We, uh, we were in the car, driving through the city. I don’t know how to say this. Your dad was shot.”

“What?” Michelle whispered. 

Steve couldn’t breathe. Tears were gathering in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry babies. I’m so sorry. Your dad died yesterday.” 

“What? What do you mean?” Harley frowned.

Meanwhile, tears spilled down Michelle’s cheeks.

“No,” she whispered. “No! Daddy, I want, I want my dad. I want my dad!”

“I know,” Steve said, lifting her into his arms. “I know, baby, I want him too.”

“No!” she screamed, thrashing in Steve’s arms. “No, he’s not. He’s not, you’re lying!”

Harley looked around in distress; in an instant, Wanda was there, hoisting him onto her hip and carrying him out of the room. After a moment, Jarvis followed. Steve’s heart broke. He wasn’t sure what was worse: to be Harley, too young to really understand, or Michelle, who understood all too well.

“I want my dad,” MJ sobbed.

“I know,” Steve whispered. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find a way to put it in without making it feel awkward, but the doctor who tells Steve that Tony'd gone is supposed to be Yinsen. Also, I'm pretty sure that after this, Clint starts #notmypresident about Stane, because no one messes with his family like that.
> 
> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's funeral becomes a day of national mourning. Steve and his children leave the White House for the final time.

**Washington DC, October 25th 2019**

Steve was a stubborn man. When someone said black, he would say white, just to be contrary. Especially if the other person was someone he disliked. And Brock Rumlow, Stane’s new head of security, the man who’d replaced Natasha, was definitely someone he didn’t like.

_A matter of security…_

That was what he’d said about walking behind the casket the following day. It wasn’t personal, just a matter of security. Steve gave a bitter laugh. As if it wasn’t Steve’s husband in that casket. As if that fact, in itself, didn’t make this whole thing intensely _personal_. 

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, taking a gulp of his coffee. “Not personal, my ass.”

He glared at the coffee, as if it was personally responsible. It wasn’t the coffee’s fault; he wanted a drink, wanted alcohol, to numb the pain and drag him away from this horror. But when he’d poured the scotch into his glass the night before, his hand began to shake, bile rose in his throat and Steve ended up smashing the glass against the wall when he threw it to get the alcohol as far away from him as possible. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn't do it. Maybe one day, maybe then he’d be able to stomach alcohol again. But right now, every time he tried, all he could hear was Tony’s voice, telling him that he was an alcoholic, the disbelief when Steve promised that he wasn’t going to abandon him. He couldn’t do it.

The thing was, this wasn’t some fucking vanity project that Rumlow was shooting down. Steve didn’t want a funeral procession just for the hell of it. He wanted it because it was what Tony deserved. And because he wanted to show the world that Tony was worth it. 

He was worth the risk.

All but dropping the mug of the table, coffee slopping over the rim, Steve walked out of the living room and jogged down the stairs. He marched into the West Wing, ignoring the looks of surprise, and walked straight up to Rumlow’s office and rapped on the open door. 

“Captain Rogers,” Rumlow looked surprised to see him. 

Good.

“I want to talk to you about tomorrow,” Steve said, inviting himself in to the office, but leaving the door open.

“Look, I know you’re disappointed, but it’s a good thing you agreed to a more modest ceremony. More fitting,” Rumlow said.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Rumlow gaped at him.

“What did you say?”

“I’ve changed my mind. There will be a procession, and I will walk with my husband to Arlington.”

“Even if we could make the arrangements, I’m sure you understand that the security concerns.”

“I don’t give a shit about security,” Steve hissed. “Where was your security concerns when it was decided to put the President in an open fucking car in Dallas?”

“Look, if it was up to President Stane, he would like nothing more than to accommodate your wishes, but-“

“Then who is it up to, Agent Rumlow?” Steve snapped.

Rumlow looked wrong-footed, and Steve felt a surge of satisfaction.

“Captain, we’re expecting over a hundred heads of state tomorrow-“

“One hundred and three,” Steve corrected.

“Right. My concern is not just the security of the President, but of those distinguished guests. I don’t think the country could survive another incident,” Rumlow trailed off, looking up at Steve warily.

“That’s alright,” Steve smiled. “I’m sure you… did your best. Agent Rumlow, could you pas on a message to all our guests for tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Inform them that I will walk with Tony tomorrow. Alone, if I have to. And tell President Stane that if he wants to ride in an armoured car, or a tank for that matter, I wouldn’t blame him. And I’m sure the millions of people watching won’t either.”

Steve smiled once more, cold, not reaching his eyes and turned to leave. Rumlow’s voice stopped him at the door.

“Why are you doing this, Captain?”

Steve turned.

“I’m just doing my job. Same as you. Don’t get in my way.”

**October 26th, 2019**

“Papa?” Harley murmured as Steve secured his tie.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Steve paused, then managed to smile for the first time in days.

“I love you too, kiddo.”

Harley leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck. Steve held him close, breathing in his son, revealing in the warmth of his body, and how solid he felt in Steve’s arms. 

“Can Thor and Loki come with us?” Harley asked.

“No baby, not today,” Steve replied, helping Harley into his coat.

“Okay.”

Steve took Harley’s hand and left his bedroom, crossing the hall to Michelle’s room. He knocked before entering, and found her sitting on the edge of the bed, already in her black dress but with bare feet, glaring at the patent pumps on the floor.

“I hate my shoes,” she declared.

“Wear sneakers,” Harley suggested and Steve had to chuckle at the innocence of his comment.

“I can’t,” MJ snapped.

“Why not?” Steve replied. Dropping Harley’s hand, he found the cardboard box packed and marked Shoes, and rummaged through it until he found a pair of black Converse. Wiping off a smudge of dirt from the toe, he slipped them onto Michelle’s feet, like he used to do when she was tiny, carefully tying the laces. “There.”

“I can’t,” Michelle repeated. “I have to look… proper. For dad.”

“Your dad would want you to look like _you_ ,” Steve corrected. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Now you do. All that’s missing…” He found her well-worn black sheepskin jacket and helped her into it. “There. Perfect.”

“What if people don’t like it?”

“I don’t give a shit what anyone says,” Steve replied. “And neither should you.” He put his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “Come on.” 

Steve and his children descended to the first floor, where they met the rest of the funeral party in the East Room where, until yesterday, Tony’s coffin sat. Rhodey was one of the first to meet them, pulling his nice in for a hug. Clint and Sam were right behind him, and Wanda and Jarvis remained nearby.

“Hey, uh, somebody wasn’t sure she should come, but I convinced her to,” Clint said, nodding to the side. Steve turned and found Natasha waiting.

“Of course you should be here,” Steve said. “You’re family. You’d be more than welcome to walk with us.”

Natasha nodded.

“If it was alright with you, I’d like to accompany Michelle and Harley,” she replied. “It would be my honour to protect them.”

The unspoken _If you trust me_ hung between them.

“They couldn’t be in safer hands,” Steve replied.

Natasha smiled.

Making their way outside, Steve saw Michelle and Harley safely into the car that would take them to Arlington, Wanda and Natasha in the back with them, and Jarvis joining Happy in the front. Originally, Jarvis had planned to walk, but the past few days had aged him in a way Steve would’ve thought impossible, had he not seen it with his own two eyes. Jarvis’ hair seemed to go grey overnight at the loss of the man he’d raised since boyhood. 

Then, Steve moved to the front of the procession, completely ignoring Stane in the second row, to take his place with Rhodey and Sam on his left, and Clint on his right.

“We got you, Cap,” Clint murmured.

“Thank you,” Steve replied.

“You made the right call,” Rhodey added. “We’re gonna make the bastards watch.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, but he was unable to say anymore. 

Later, Steve would struggle to remember the walk from the White House to Arlington. He would remember the feeling of his feet hitting the asphalt, and he would remember the weight of Rhodey’s arm on his shoulders. He would remember Clint’s fleeting touch to his elbow, and thought maybe he stumbled. 

But in the moment, he was unaware. Unaware of the miles they walked, or of the bite of the wind on his face. One moment they were outside the White House, they next they were climbing the hill at Arlington. He waited for the car carrying Michelle and Harley, lifting Harley onto his hip, and tucking Michelle into his side before walking to the graveside. 

He caught Dum Dum’s eye as the chosen members of the 107th lifted the casket down, and his old friend winked. The briefest of smiles flickered across Steve’s face. He was honoured and touched that his former unit had volunteered to guard Tony’s body, first in the East Room, and then in the Rotunda, and finally carrying it from the carriage to the grave. 

He didn’t hear a word of the service, too busy staring at the casket, the one he’d picked out, but didn’t recognise. It seemed small. Far too small to hold his husband. Tony was so much larger than life, that the idea of him being so small seemed… wrong. Only in death he could he be small, because he was no longer full of life. When the time came for the coffin to be lowered, Steve put Harley down and, hand in hand, brother and sister stepped forward and threw a flower onto the casket. Then, to Steve’s surprise, Harley drew himself up and saluted, and Steve began to cry. 

He lifted Harley back onto his hip, while Michelle burrowed her face in his chest, only glancing out occasionally as they buried Tony.

Then it was over, and the crowd began to disperse, but Steve didn’t move.

“I need a minute,” he told Rhodey.

“Okay,” Rhodey nodded.

Suddenly, Natasha and Wanda were there, Pepper and Maria behind them, and together the four women ushered Michelle and Harley back to the car. It took a long time for everyone to leave, but Steve was in no hurry. He waited, until finally, he was left with only Rhodey, Sam and Clint.

Rhodey stepped up first, placing his hand on the top of the granite stone.

“Bye Tony,” he murmured, then stepped away. 

“We’ll be right here,” Sam told Steve, before he and Clint stepped back too.

“Thank you,” Steve replied.

Then it was just him. Him and Tony.

“We were supposed to do this together,” he said. “And I don’t know how to do it alone. I never imagined doing this alone, because it was never an option. Together. That’s what we said.”

He hesitated, closing his eyes, and for one moment, he allowed himself to _wish_ , to wish that Tony was here, to wish that he could bring him back. Steve could almost feel a shoulder nudging his, could hear that low chuckle, could see that blinding grin. 

And then it was gone.

“Goodbye.”

X

**Malibu, November 2019**

Steve heard Karen Page say goodbye to Jarvis as he let her out, followed by the click of the door. Then Jarvis reappeared.

“Do you require anything, Captain?”

“No Jarvis. Thank you.”

Jarvis nodded, before disappearing towards the kitchen. 

Steve exhaled.

He looked up when he heard the click of claws against the marble floor, his eyebrow raising in surprise when he saw Loki trotting towards him. He jumped up onto the couch and curled up with his head in Steve’s lap. A previously unprecedented move. Tony was the only one Loki had shown any sort of affection for in the past.

“Hey buddy,” Steve murmured, rubbing Loki’s ears. The dog looked up at him without raising his head. “Yeah, I know. I miss him too.”

The lurcher whined, and Steve scratched him behind the ear.

The house was too quiet. Whenever they visited in the past, it was always so full of life. Whether it was the kids running around, screaming, or Tony at the piano, there was always noise, always sounds of _life_. Now… 

“Maybe we need to get out of house,” he thought aloud. “What do you think?”

Loki cocked one ear.

“Yeah. It is a good idea. Let’s go to the beach. Thor, time for a walk,” he called, and received an echoing _woof_ from the other room. “Come on boy,” he said to Loki. 

**Washington DC, October 28th 2019**

“You ready?” Rhodey asked.

“Yeah. I guess,” Steve nodded. Despite everything, it was harder saying goodbye to the White House than he thought it would be. Packing up, leaving everything behind, there was a finality about it. Closing the door on the chapter of his life. The chapter with Tony by his side. 

Still, it would be good to return to Malibu.

Movement drew his eye; Steve turned and found Stane standing in the door. His jaw clenched. 

“Jarvis, can you take the kids down to the car please?” Steve asked.

“Of course Captain,” Jarvis nodded. 

“You want me to stay?” Rhodey murmured. 

“I’ve got this,” Steve assured him.

“See you in a minute,” Rhodey nodded.

Leaving Steve alone with Stane.

“Terrible times,” Stane said, plucking his cigar from his teeth. “Everyone says you’ve been remarkable.”

“Let’s drop the act, shall we?” Steve replied. “We don’t like each other, we never liked each other, and we were never going to. Not after you threatened my husband.”

“Tony told you?”

“I heard you.” Steve walked towards Stane, hesitating at his side. “How hard would they have to look, to find the connection between you and this Raza that they claim shot Tony? I’m guessing not very. But then, you’ve always been good at covering your tracks.”

“Would that make you feel better, Captain Rogers? Knowing who killed your husband?”

“No,” Steve shook his head. “Knowing who did it won’t bring him back. But I am going to make sure that the world never forgets Tony Stark. You, you will fade into obscurity with time. But Tony, Tony will live forever.

“You may have won the battle Stane. But I’m going to win the war.”

X

Michelle and Harley shrieked as they rumbled down the path from the house to the beach, and it brought a smile to Steve’s face to see them happy again. The past week had been painful for them all, but particularly for the children. Not only did they lose their father, but they had to move away from everything they’d ever known to a house they only knew from vacations. 

Below, Thor galumphed along the sand in a vain attempt to keep up with Loki, but the lurcher left him in the dust. The two dogs splashed into the water, and Steve winced at the thought of bathing them when they got home. 

He paused, halfway down the path, and stared out to sea, the waves crashing onto the sand as the wind whipped around his ears. The sound of the surf washed away a little of the hurt and the pain in his heart.

He really had no idea how to do this alone. But, he supposed, he’d figure it out. One day at a time. 

“Papa! Hurry up!” Hayley yelled.

Steve grinned.

“I’m coming,” he replied.

X

**Malibu, September 2011**

“Where are we going?” Steve grinned beneath his blindfold.

“Well, that would defeat the purpose of the blindfold, honey,” Tony retorted from the driver’s seat. “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise,” Steve echoed. “That involves blindfolding me. Is this the sexy kind of surprise, because you know I’m down for that.”

“Maybe later. What am I saying? Definitely later.”

Steve laughed, leaning back and listening to the roar of the engine. He’d never had a honeymoon before so he couldn’t judge, but he had to admit, this wasn’t the worst way one could start. Michelle was back in New York, under Jarvis’ watchful eye, and they’d convinced Howard to allow them a few days off to celebrate their marriage.

Tony chose Malibu. 

After a few more minutes, they reached their mysterious destination. Tony jumped out of the car first, before helping Steve out of the passenger seat.

“Can I look yet?”

“No.” Tony retorted.

“Tony…”

“Okay, okay.” 

He felt Tony step up behind him, his arms brushing against Steve’s shoulders. Then the blindfold was released, but before Steve could open his eyes, Tony’s hands covered them. He felt Tony’s laugh rumble in his chest, where it was pressed against Steve’s back.

“Ready?” Tony asked.

“Yes!”

“Okay then. In five… four… three… two and three quarters… two and a half… two and a third…”

“Tony!” Steve laughed, yanking Tony’s hands out of the way.

It was a house. They were standing outside of a house, white and modern. He could smell the sea on the air, and high above a gull screeched, so the sea must be close.

“What is it?” 

“Well, Steve, this a house,” Tony grinned, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist.

“I know that, you asshole!”

“It’s yours.”

“What?”

“This house is my wedding gift to you,” Tony explained. 

“Certainly puts the watch I got you in the shade,” Steve said.

“Shh, you. Size doesn’t matter, or so I’ve been told,” Tony kissed the back of Steve’s neck. “This house is yours. It’s ours. A place for you. For me. For our daughter. And all our future children.”

“You planning a baseball team, Stark?”

“Gotta have something to do after my two terms.”

Steve smiled, leaning back into Tony’s arms. 

“I love you,” he murmured. 

“Love you too,” Tony kissed below his ear. “Want the tour?”

“Yes.”

Tony unwrapped his arms from Steve’s waist, winding their fingers together. Steve didn’t move as Tony stepped forward, their hands joined in the air between them.

“You coming?” Tony smiled.

“Lead on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the epilogue, but the next chapter contains Karen's interview with Steve.
> 
> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


	11. Chapter 11

**THE DAILY BULLETIN**

**November 4, 2019**

**FINAL FAREWELL TO PRESIDENT STARK**

_An era ends as the President who made history is laid to rest_

 

 

Aillte Bána has little in common with the house Captain Steven Rogers has called home for the past seven years. Both buildings are white, but that’s where the similarities end.

Build by the then Senator Stark for his new husband, Aillte Bána is named for the cliffs it sits upon, overlooking the Pacific Ocean, and is the pinnacle of modernity. A complete contrast from the White House, steeped in years of history and tradition. “It was always meant to be our escape,” Captain Rogers explains. “A place where we could just be, with no one watching us. A place where we didn’t have to pretend.” Over the years, they’ve kept Aillte Bána private, never allowing anyone other than family or trusted friends onto the grounds, maintaining that privacy for themselves and their children. “It was always supposed to be our home,” Captain Rogers explains. “The place we would live when this was all over.”

 

‘This’ is the presidency, Anthony Edward Stark’s eight years as the commander in chief, due to end next January were it not for the tragic events of last week in Dallas.

“It was hot,” Captain Rogers recalls. “Really hot. It was like being back in the desert. In more ways than one.”

It’s easy to forget that Captain Rogers is not only the first First Gentleman of the United States, but also a decorated war veteran when talking to him. He served for five years in the 107th, during which time he was awarded a Medal of Honor, among other citations. But he doesn’t like to talk about that. 

> ** "I wanted them to see what they'd done" - Captain Steven Rogers **

“There was a haze, it was hot. But it was… It wasn’t bad,” he explains. “It was a beautiful day. Then I heard the first bullet, and it didn’t sink in, not at first. Then I heard the second one, and I realised. I knew.”

Captain Rogers refused to leave his husband’s body, even for a moment. He flew back to Washington on Air Force One, where vice president Obadiah Stane was sworn in, then went with long time family friend Colonel James Rhodes to Walter Reed Military Medical Centre and waited while the autopsy was performed.

“I couldn’t leave him alone,” Captain Rogers says. “He hated being alone. They told me I should leave, told me I should change. I refused. I wanted them to see what they’d done. To know.”

It was Captain Rogers who arranged President Stark’s funeral. It was him who arranged the memorial and insisted on the burial at Arlington Cemetery. And now, he plans to livein Aillte Bána with their two children, Michelle and Harold, and raise them how the couple wanted.

“Tony never wanted any of this,” Captain Rogers says. “He never wanted the Presidency, or the fame, or the power. He just wanted to be happy. In fact, he would’ve been happier without it. The pressures of politics are many, and it’s a world filled with temptations. He and I worked hard to try and keep him away from alcohol as much as we could. He told me when I proposed that he was an alcoholic, but Howard made it clear that the Presidency was more important than Tony’s health. It was a struggle, one that he lost more than once. But he fought. He fought so hard.”

Over time, the pressures grew, particularly as President Stark fought to bring in controversial new gun laws. And he found himself relying on prescription medication to deal with the pressures.

“Tony hated his addictions. All he wanted was to help people, and to be a good father. And he was. When I think of Tony, I don’t think of President Stark. I think of a photo, from when Harley was a baby. The photo of Tony, lying on the floor of the Oval Office with Harley, smiling. Really smiling. That was Tony. He was a good man. And he deserved better.

“Every night, Tony would read a bedtime story, first to Michelle and later to Harley. And his favourite story was King Arthur. He loved them, and could do all the voices. Better than I could, apparently. And I like to think that, while Tony was president, for one shining moment, there was Camelot.”

_Karen Page_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's read this. I fell in love with this story from the moment I started it. Extra special shoutout to anyone who's commented.
> 
> You may have noticed a certain someone has been conspicuous by his absence in this fic. For some reason, I always knew that Steve and Bucky didn't know each other in this AU. 
> 
> BUT. If you know your history, you may know that Jacqueline Kennedy went on to become Jacqueline Onassis. A couple of years down the line, Steve is going to meet Bucky for the first time and start a whole new adventure. I'm still undecided as to whether or not I'll write a sequel. At the moment, I'm busy with HTBAF verse, and I've just started the 2019 Marvel Bingo.
> 
> HOWEVER. Knowing me, I probably will come back to this verse at some point, so keep an eye out for a story named After Camelot. Because you never know, it might happen.
> 
> Thank you again for sticking with this verse and these boys. I'm very proud of this one.
> 
> The article that inspired this thing can be read [here](https://timedotcom.files.wordpress.com/2016/12/jfk-epilogue.jpg)  
> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


End file.
